


(You're) The One That I Want

by eriot, tisfan



Category: Avengers Academy (Video Game), Grease (1978), Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe - Greasers, Alternate Universe - High School, Bragging, Bullying, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, F/M, M/M, Musicals, Rivalry, Scientists vs Experiments, Sexually Transmitted Disease Scare, Teenagers, avengers academy au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-05
Updated: 2017-09-09
Packaged: 2018-12-24 07:15:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 24,239
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12007740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eriot/pseuds/eriot, https://archiveofourown.org/users/tisfan/pseuds/tisfan
Summary: Billionaire genius Tony Stark meets and falls in love with tough guy and heart-throb Bucky Barnes during a summer’s fling at a beachside resort. Thought to have been parted forever, they discover they’re both attending Avenger’s Academy, a prep-school for superpowered people. With a different social circle, different goals and different dreams, will Tony and Bucky decide that the other is “the one that they want.”An Avenger’s Academy/Grease mash up fic.





	1. Summer Nights

**Author's Note:**

  * For [27dragons](https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/gifts), [RemingtonFae](https://archiveofourown.org/users/RemingtonFae/gifts), [dentigerous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/dentigerous/gifts), [Politzania](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Politzania/gifts).



> Both Grease and Avenger’s Academy are set in a high school environment and among other things, Grease deals with issues like underage drinking, premarital sex, unsafe sex, roofies (in the original Grease it was “aspirin in my Coke” which was rumored to be an aphrodisiac, despite being nothing of the sort), pregnancy scares, street racing, dropping out of school, and other, rather typical poor decision making that young adults are capable of making. 
> 
> For the sake of my sanity, however, we’re going to assume that Avenger’s Academy is a prep-school and takes students with superpowers of all ages, that can range from 16 to 22. And I’m not specifying ANYONE’s age and that they’re all in the same peer group, (except for Justin Hammer, and he's meant to be skeazie)
> 
> Also, some characters/actions are split up, or mushed together to put pairings as I wanted them and to make the actions of some characters in Grease suit their Avengers personas. 
> 
> **Author Disclaimer: Astonishingly enough, this author was a young adult at one point, made terrible decisions, lived to be an older, adultier adult, and still makes terrible decisions. That’s life.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Best. Summer. _Ever_
> 
> Summer lovin', had me a blast  
> Summer lovin', happened so fast  
> I met a guy crazy for me  
> Met a boy cute as can be
> 
> Summer days drifting away  
> To, uh oh, those summer nights

 

* * *

 

Tony Stark wasn’t watching where he was going. He could have blamed that on any number of things: it was bright out, the sun was reflecting off the beach and sea, there were a lot of half-dressed people running around, there were gulls in the sky, there were dolphins in the water. There was the smell of popcorn and cotton candy and french fries and sea salt and dead fish in the air. There were sounds of playing children, screaming moms, giggling girls. People had portable speakers on their beach blankets. There were volleyball games in progress.

In short, there were plenty of excuses that Tony could have plucked from the environment as the reason that he walked right into someone else’s beach umbrella and knocked it over.

The truth was, however, that he was so utterly distracted by the beauty of the person laying under the umbrella that he didn’t even _notice_ the umbrella.

The guy laying in the beach chair wasn’t wearing a shirt and he had a metal arm. Which might have been distraction for just about anyone, whatever gender, beauty, state of undress, or physical attributes they possessed. The man had long, flowing hair that was shining of its own accord because the guy was completely in the shade. Rippling muscles. Narrow, mouthwatering hips. Thighs like Tony could not believe were possibly real.

Tony had been walking along the beach trying to avoid the fact that he was on a freaking beach and didn’t want to be there when he noticed the guy, and like a corvid that had spotted something shiny (literally, in this case) he just veered on over to get a closer look.

Given that he didn’t know the guy, and that the man appeared to be sleeping, Tony didn’t really want to bother him, exactly, so he planned to just sort of casually walk by and get an eyeful and then, perhaps, stake out a good spot on the beach where he could just watch and not look like he was staring.

That was exactly _nothing_ like what happened.

Tony walked straight into the umbrella’s pole and knocked the whole thing over.

The guy with the metal arm reacted faster than anyone who appeared asleep should have done. He rolled over, capturing Tony with his skin-and-bones arm, tucked Tony underneath him and raised the metal arm like a shield, keeping the structure from crashing down on both of them.

Tony was one hundred and fifteen percent certain his life was over. The guy was _laying on him_ , bracketed between Tony’s splayed legs, his hand planted next to Tony’s head. Tony tried to catch his breath, then actually looked up into the guy’s face.

He was a _knockout_. Gorgeous cheekbones, a lightly dimpled chin, lush kissable mouth, and eyes that could only be described in such ridiculously overblown language like “the sea after a storm.”

“Oh, my god,” Tony said, not even aware that his mouth was moving. “You’re like…”

“A freak,” the guy said. “I know.”

“Not even a--” Tony protested. He knew what freaks were. Freaks were guys with electromagnets in their chest. Freaks were what you called guys like Tony, who was so afraid of the water that he couldn’t go near the ocean, hadn’t taken a shower in months because he couldn’t stand the way water splashed on his face. “--no, you’re not, I mean, I… you’re _gorgeous_. I’m sorry. I said that out loud and everything, I didn’t mean to, I don’t… like, it’s just a clinical observation, anyone would make it, and I’m still talking, here, and making things worse and--”

The man leaned down, his body hot and heavy over Tony’s, and kissed him.

It wasn’t a deep kiss, or wet, or involving any tongue like Tony was told by some of his friends that kisses would be, seeing as Tony had never been kissed before. He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting. The sizzle of nerves from the brief point of contact wasn’t it, however. He licked at his lip, tentatively. “Um…”

“Sorry,” the guy said. “Seemed the fastest way t’ let you know I ain’t offended, an’ I don’t mind.”

“Oh.” Tony wasn’t sure what to think about that. Did the guy go around just kissing anybody?

“And you’re not exactly unattractive,” the guy finished. “But, we ain’t been introduced, an’ I’m sorta layin’ on you in front of God and everybody.” He rolled off and Tony was suddenly missing his weight. “I’m Bucky Barnes. Nice to meet you.”

“Tony,” Tony said. “Tony Stark. Likewise. I’m, look, I’m sorry about your umbrella, I just… well, I admit, I did notice the arm first, and I’m just --” Tony didn’t even realize that his hands had gone out to touch it, fingers tracing the seams and joins, noticing how the plates moved together “--well, fascinated by engineering, and this, this is a beautiful piece of…” Tony trailed off unexpectedly as Bucky was sitting perfectly still, unmoving, barely breathing, eyes stretched wide as he stared at Tony. “--ohgod. I’m so so sorry, I totally should not have done that, I should not have touched you without permission, ohgod.”

Bucky’s right hand came down on Tony’s, pressing his fingers against the metal. “Don’t,” he said. “You don’t need to be sorry… please don’t. No one ever touches it, ‘cept the techs. I… I liked it. That’s all.”  

“Yeah?”

Bucky nodded. “You can… touch me, that’s fine. I don’t mind. Feels good. Your hands are cool, I wasn’t expecting that.”

Well, of course Tony’s hands were cold, his circulatory system sucked. “Bet you have to keep it out of the sun,” Tony said.

“Yeah. It’s not so bad, except when I burn my skin, sometimes, an’ the reflection bothers people. Makes ‘em notice it more. But I’m always cold, so I like to come to the beach; the air is nice and hot, the sand is hot. Can’t swim, though. Saltwater's corrosive. As it is, I’ll be havin’ lots of work t’ do. Have to go through the whole thing with compressed air, get the sand out.” He shuddered.

Tony almost flinched. Compressed air was damn cold; real flesh and blood could be harmed by it. “Um. I’m… I’m a robotics engineer. Maybe, I could… um. Help you with that?”

Bucky gave Tony a wide smile, brilliant and warm, and helplessly happy. “Would you? I… hey, would you like to… I dunno, grab a burger and malt with me?”

Was that a date? Did Tony just get asked on a date? He bit the inside of his cheek, then, “Um… uh. Was that a ‘burger and malt’ as a date sort of thing, because if it is, that’s fine, I um, yeah, I don’t, or you know, more like a ‘I’m hungry and did you--”

And Tony shut up because Bucky was kissing him again, which was nice, and weirdly unexpected, and there was a part of him that thought maybe he was supposed to be offended that someone he barely knew was kissing him. But most of him just wanted to melt into a little puddle of overexcited goo topped with an extra helping of nerves.

“So… do.. Do you do that often?”

“Do what?” Bucky was a little dazed-looking, as if doing something that was as on the surface mundane as pressing his mouth to Tony’s had made him dizzy and as excited and nervous as Tony was.

“Kiss people to shut them up?”

“You’d be the first.”

***

Bucky Barnes was having the best summer of his life.

Admittedly, it hadn’t been a long life, and the last two summers had been well and truly miserable, but he felt safe in asserting that this was the best one. And that it was going to be hard to top.

Two summers ago, Bucky had been in a bad accident involving some stupidity, too much booze, a car and a train. Lost his arm and spent most of the summer recovering. Last summer, he was finally healed enough to try the replacement limb surgery. And while it had been successful, it had also been painful, scary, and exhausting.

Downside, having a metal arm meant that he drew a lot of unwelcome and unwanted attention. He couldn’t swim. He had to learn to control his every motion, since he could hurt someone by accident without even noticing. In order to use and control the arm -- as well as being able to heal around it -- he’d been injected with an experimental drug that boosted his healing, as well as strength, speed, and endurance. Which had made him attractive to powered villains who thought a good tragic backstory was all a body needed to sign up for being an evil sidekick.

Side benefit, having the metal arm and the serum, Bucky had qualified to be able to go to the prep school, Avengers Academy. Which meant he’d be back with his friends, who’d all qualified through serum (Steve Rogers), coming back from the dead and prosthetics (Phil Coulson) or being experimented on (Carol Danvers.) It meant taking classes where the courses of study involved how to get along in the world without becoming an evil sidekick. _Vigilantism and You_. _How Best to not Destroy the World around You_.

But this summer, this summer was going to be in the top ten for the rest of his life, Bucky just knew it.

Because this summer, he had Tony.

Tony, who was stuck at a beach resort for the entire season and who hated the beach. Tony, who thought the metal arm was cool, and knew enough about mechanics that he could actually work on it without breaking it. Tony, who took after his brilliant inventor father in so many ways. Tony, who had two robots and an AI assistant. Tony, who was gorgeous and lithe and tasted like coffee and sugar cookies. Tony, with his scruff of facial hair that was really trying to be a goatee and failing utterly. With his brown eyes and thick lashes. With his full, pert mouth that curved into a pout often enough that Bucky felt it was his duty to kiss, because Tony smiling was a flipping _gift_.

Once they’d met, Bucky and Tony spent as much time together as they could. They ate at various beach restaurants, they built sandcastles together, they played endless games of badminton and checkers. Tony taught Bucky how to play poker, and Bucky taught Tony how to do a model boat in a bottle.

They went rollerskating. Dancing. Walking in the moonlight. Necking, a little, up in Bucky’s room, although when Bucky had tried to slide a hand under Tony’s shirt, he’d been firmly rebuked. Tony never took his shirt off, even if Bucky walked around without his most of the time (the sun felt really, really good on his skin.)

They’d spent a few afternoons in Tony’s jacuzzi, after Tony had elicited a solemn promise from Bucky not to splash him. “I don’t want to mess up my hair,” Tony had said, even if Bucky didn’t believe that for a hot second, Tony was so serious that Bucky behaved himself. Besides, he didn’t want to lose his jacuzzi privileges. The hot tub was nice. Even if Tony wore a thick, black tank top instead of stripping down to his shorts, Bucky got to see a lot more of him, and wet besides. Tony had the world’s best ass, and Bucky couldn’t help but stare at it whenever he thought Tony wasn’t looking.

It was the best summer of Bucky’s life.

But summers always ended.

That last night, Tony had spread a blanket on the grass and they’d laid down together. Talking, a little. Kissing a lot. Touching a little. Bucky had to swallow down a lump in his throat several times.

“I gotta go back to SSR,” Tony said. He was drumming his fingers against his breastbone, a habit whenever he was nervous. “My dad, he’s like a big deal there, and… you know. I have private tutors. My mom worries, after… well, she worries.”

“I’m gonna miss you,” Bucky said. He kissed Tony again, letting his tongue trace over the line of his mouth and groaning in relief as Tony opened up under him. “Miss you so much.”

“I’ll write,” Tony promised. “And you can call me, although that’ll be hard, with the time zones. Practically on opposite sides of the world.” Tony hadn’t told him exactly where the SSR was, but nobody knew that, really. Bucky thought it might have been in London, or he’d heard rumors that it was in Australia.

“And after school’s over,” Bucky said, his hand roaming around. He wanted, god the things he wanted to do, and Tony was _shy_. Tony wasn’t ready, and Bucky didn’t want to push, but God, Bucky wanted to, he wanted to touch and tease and lick all over Tony’s body, and he couldn’t help but wish that Tony would give him _something_. He knew Tony wanted him, he could feel that press of evidence, even now. “After school’s over. I’ll find you. I will. This isn’t the end, kitten. It’s just the beginning.”

Bucky rolled them over until Bucky was laying on top of Tony, staring down at him. He captured Tony’s mouth again, kissing. His hand was on Tony’s hip, and then it slid upward. He pressed down, rocking his hips against Tony’s.

Suddenly Tony was gasping and shoving at him. “Get off, get off me,” he burst out. Tony scrambled upright as soon as Bucky took his weight off, one hand pressed against his chest, the other one pulling his knees up.

“Oh, God, kitten,” Bucky said, biting at his lip. “I’m sorry. Sorry, I didn’t mean t’...” Bucky was lanced with guilt; he had been pushing, trying to nudge Tony into more than he’d said he was ready for, and now--

“No, no, it’s… Bucky, it’s okay, you just…” Tony fluttered his hand around his chest. “I… I, it was me,” he stammered, staring at the blanket. “I couldn’t breathe. Can… I think. I think I’d be okay, if… if I was on top?”

_Ohgod_. Bucky was on fire for that suggestion. “Yeah, yeah, kitten, you can totally lay on me, much as you want.”

“And,” Tony said, crawling up and snuggling against Bucky’s chest. “And… just leave my shirt alone, okay?”

Bucky brushed Tony’s hair back. “Whatever you want, kitten,” he said. “I… why?”

Tony flushed a little. “Well, have you seen yourself? I don’t…”

Oh, God. Bucky barely suppressed his urge to roll his eyes. “You know I don’t care if you don’t have any muscle, right? I _like_ you. I love _you_.”

“I don’t… I don’t have any chest hair, either. Look, I know it’s silly,” Tony said, blushing harder and tucking his face against Bucky’s neck. “I just… I don’t want you looking at me with my shirt off, okay? Can we just… not? Anything else you want…”

Bucky took Tony’s hand and dropped a kiss in his palm. “You’re not silly,” Bucky said. He sucked one of Tony’s fingers into his mouth, then released it. “What… what’s on the options menu, for _anything_ else?” Because Bucky knew some things they could do that didn’t involve their chests at all, and he would be perfectly happy to do them.

Tony slithered down Bucky’s body; there was a hard press of -- Tony’s elbow, maybe? -- on Bucky’s belly that drew a gasp from him. Tony touched the hem of button of Bucky’s jeans. “I… um… if you wanted. I could…”

Bucky leaned up on his elbows. “Only if you… if you want to, Tony,” Bucky started, and then he lost his grip on his vocabulary as Tony’s quick fingers were on Bucky’s zipper.

Best. Summer. _Ever_.


	2. Tell Me More, Tell Me More

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It turned colder that's where it ends  
> So I told him we'd still be friends  
> Then we made our true love vow  
> Wonder what he's doing now
> 
> Summer dreams ripped at the seams but oh those summer nights  
> Tell me more, tell me more

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters today, and for the rest of the fic, until Saturday and the final art!

“Tones, babe, buddy,” Rhodey said, hanging one arm around Tony’s neck. “You are utterly, completely, totally --”

“Amazing, and you love me,” Tony said. He stared around the campus, just awed. He was back in the States, which was nice, because it meant he could get a decent cheeseburger. He’d had a breakthrough with his armor designs and while the Iron Man armor was weaponized, it was also a peacekeeping initiative.

He’d made one for his best friend, too, and suddenly the two of them had invitations to Avenger’s Academy, Nicholas Fury’s school for budding superheroes. Well, Rhodey had one because of the War Machine armor and because he was a gifted tactician. Tony had one because he could build stuff and he had a freaking arc-reactor in his chest, keeping his heart beating.

Fury’d been a lot more interested in the arc-reactor than anything else, and Tony wasn’t about to tell Rhodey that he was at the Academy because Tony insisted, more than anything else. And he’d had to get it in writing that Fury would keep the arc-reactor in Tony’s chest to himself. Tony wasn’t ready for that level of scrutiny.

“Well, I wouldn’t go that far,” Rhodey said.

Tony shoved Dum-E back onto the sidewalk; the bot kept getting distracted from his job, which was to push the repulsor-lifted luggage cart and follow Tony. Flowers, butterflies, empty coffee cups, all these things were of interest to the bot who hadn’t been outside of the Stark mansion basement for the better part of its entire existence.

“Come on, Dummy,” Tony said, grabbing the strap and hauling the suitcases toward Stark Tower. So weird that he was going to be living in yet another one of his father’s buildings. But it was probably better than living in the dorms, where he might end up half-dressed in front of a dormmate, showing off his chest, which he really was not ready for. The bathrooms were general communal, and Tony was just not… nope, better to be in the Stark Tower where he’d have a private room and his own workshop.

Even if that meant that the other students were probably going to think that he bought his way into school.

Tony glanced at Rhodey. It wasn’t entirely untrue. Not that Rhodey wasn’t 100% superhero material, he was, he really, really was. But he probably wouldn’t have gotten to the Academy without Tony’s inventions. That was okay; Rhodey would prove himself and Tony wouldn’t be all alone on this enormous campus.

It wasn’t that he was scared, but--

“New people!” Someone said, and suddenly Tony was confronted by an excited girl wearing brilliant yellow. “And with a ‘bot! I bet you’re Tony Stark! And… Jim Rhodes?”

“Yeah, hey, there,” Rhodey said. “Jim’s good, you can call me Jim.”

“Tony,” Tony introduced himself. The girl was thin, with a cute bob-cut hair and brilliant blue eyes. She had a pink phone in one hand.

“Selfie!” She said. She jumped between them, leaned back and used one hand to hold her hat on her head and Tony was blinking as the flash went off in his face. “I’m Jan. Janet VanDyne. You’ve probably heard of me!”

“The Wasp!” Tony said. “You work with Hank Pym, you use Pym particles--” Working with Dr. Pym was one of the more exciting opportunities he could think of at the school.

“Well, yes,” Jan said, sighing and rolling her eyes. “But really, I’m more well known for my incredible fashion sense. Come on, boys, let’s get you settled in. We’ll go out for coffee and you can tell me all about your summer vacation. Are you in love, do you have girlfriends?”

Tony bit at the inside of his cheek. “I have… had. Had a boyfriend. We…”

“Broke up? Aw, sugar,” Jan said. “Don’t you worry, I’ll find just the right man for you. That’s what I do. Come on, come on.”

***

“Hey, Bucky! Didja get lucky over the summer?”

Bucky rolled his eyes. Carol Danvers, Captain Marvel, Kree-blood experiment and all around tough girl. She grinned at him. She bounced up to him, her blonde hair shining in the autumn sun. “Hey Caro,” Bucky said. “And yes, as a matter of fact, I did.”

“Oh, tell me more,” Carol said. She wormed her way between him and Steve. “I want to hear all about it.”

Steve sighed. “I’d rather hear about Coulson’s new car. I heard he managed to get his hands on a Stark original.”

“Well, it’s not like it was all that hard, after the Expo. It doesn’t work, so Howard Stark dumped it. You know what the Starks are like. Spoiled, rich boys, the lot of ‘em.”

Bucky kept his mouth shut; he knew exactly what Starks were like, and that description didn’t come close, but who was going to believe him. There was no way he could tell his friends that he’d spent the summer with Tony Stark, Howard’s son. No way he could tell his friends about those sweet kisses and dancing and moonlight walks, the soft press of Tony’s body, laying over him.

“Look at you, loverboy,” Carol said, ruffling his hair. “We got us a _flying car_ and you’re off in your own head, makin’ heart-eyes at a daydream.”

“Well, you didn’t see my reality, did you?” Bucky grinned. “Gorgeous, oh, my Christ, I never seen such a man in my life.”

“So, didja get laid?”

“Like you would not believe,” Bucky said, basking in the attention. True, he hadn’t actually talked Tony into bed in the truest sense of the word, but they’d certainly been laying in bed together a few times, and Tony had put his hand down Bucky’s pants. Close enough. Not like his friends were getting busy (well, most of the time, anyway) with their boyfriends or girlfriends. As far as he knew, Carol still had her boyfriend from outer space that no one actually believed in. She wrote to him, displayed letters that he’d sent back to her, but no one had ever actually seen him.

“Really, Buck?” Steve stopped dead and stared. “You actually had sex?”

Bucky squirmed a little inside, then went ahead and told the lie. Who was going to know? “Yeah, we totally did.”

“So, are you gonna see ‘im again, or was it a one and done kinda deal?” Carol asked. Her eyes were wide and the smirk that pasted itself across her face was eager.

“He’s… I probably won’t see him again,” Bucky said, and that brought him back to the earth with a thud that echoed up through the soles of his boots until he thought his hair might actually be drooping with depression. He’d tried the number Tony gave him before school started but there had been no answer and no way to leave a message.

Maybe what they’d shared during the summer hadn’t meant as much to Tony as it had to Bucky. Maybe Tony was just as happy to be going back to SSR and not ever seeing Bucky again.

“Come on, tell me about it,” Carol said. She yanked him up onto the bleachers; the Avengers stadium wasn’t deserted or anything. Kamala Khan was out in the middle of the field juggling a soccer ball, using her mutations to catch and throw, growing and stretching. She seemed to always be anywhere Carol was; it was a well documented fact that Kamala practically hero- worshipped Captain Marvel.

And Coulson was there; he had a thick book on auto mechanics open over his knee, his face was smudged with grease and his Captain America messenger bag held two other books. “Repulsor tech, Phil?”

Steve was blushing again. Phil Coulson’s adoration of Captain America was a little embarrassing for Steve. But mostly Coulson just kept it to the occasional fawning look and absolutely hanging on every word Steve said as being the utter and complete truth. “Hey Cap,” Coulson said. “Did you have a good summer?”

“Well, not as good as Bucky did, apparently. Let’s have a cheer for the first member of the Howling Commandos to cash in their V-chip!”

“Oh, my God, Steve, shut up!” Bucky shoved his friend, cheeks and throat heating.

“Seriously?” Phil closed the book. “Congrats, man. That’s an accomplishment. Was it good?”

Bucky rolled his tongue around in his mouth, giving his friends his best bedroom eyes, before grinning. “It was like nothing I’ve ever felt before. I mean, you have got to know that lettin’ someone else touch that, it ain’t a thing like doing it yourself. And my god, the boy was fit. Arms like you wouldn’t believe, and that ass… that ass does not lie. So… uh… perfect and round and…” Bucky made a squeezing gesture with both hands. “Hard to keep my hands to myself.”

“Well, you never were a perfect gentleman, Buck,” Steve said, elbowing him. “Tell me you were at least _safe_.”

“Gimme a break, Captain Condom,” Bucky said. “All of us heard your lecture.”

“Still got my Shield in my pocket,” Phil pitched in, patting his wallet.

Carol laughed. “You boys are so, so cautious. It’s adorable.”

“Hey, just because me an’ Steve can’t get an STD if we tried, doesn’t mean that we shouldn’t take precautions. Super baby would be a bad plan, this early in our careers.”

“And some of us don’t have a serum,” Phil said. “But Fitz updated me again, check this out.” He flicked his wrist and summoned up an energy shield from his wrist, the actual Shield logo projected on it. “I wanted a Captain America one, but Fitz thought it might be better if I didn’t. Also, branding… right Cap?”

Steve laughed. “You’ll always be my number one fan, Coulson.”

“That’s for certain,” Carol said. She glanced at Kamala. “Well, we all have our burdens… someone whose expectations we have to live up to.”

“Oh, god, now you sound like Professor Parker,” Bucky complained. “With great power…”

“Comes great responsibility,” the rest of them echoed.

“We _know_!” Carol added.

***

“Well, I totally know the guy for you, Tony,” Jan said.

Tony was going to have a roommate for the first time in his life! It was going to be fun. Rhodey needed a landing platform as well, for the War Machine armor, so in the efforts of the least amount of work, Rhodey was going to move in. They’d gotten their stuff unloaded with a minimum of fuss. The penthouse was huge, complete with a hot tub and a workshop, a huge movie room, and a kitchen. Jarvis -- Tony’s artificial intelligence butler -- was already installed so Tony could have all the comforts of home (as well as have someone else monitoring the data from the arc-reactor, in case Tony needed to update, or go to the hospital, or collapsed in his workshop, which he’d been known to do before.) There was even an espresso machine.

“Yeah?” Tony looked up from the repulsor boot he was adjusting. “You just know everyone, don’t you, Wasp?”

“Of course,” Jan said. She stopped and fluffed her hair in front of one of the mirrors. “And it’s my job to make sure that everyone’s happy.”

“How did that get to be your job?” Rhodey wondered.

“Self-assigned responsibilities,” Jan said. “Also, I like match-making. I get totally cute photos in the yearbook.”

“Well, you and Tones’ll get along just great,” Rhodey said. He had his feet kicked up on the arm of one of the sofas, not paying attention to what Tony was doing with the repulsor. “He is allllllll about style.”

“I can’t help it that I’m perfect, honeybear, don’t be jealous,” Tony said. He twisted the screwdriver one more time, and that snapped the panel in place. He grabbed a gauntlet. “I’m gonna see if I can’t make this work.”

“What, Tony --” Rhodey sat up just a second too late. Tony triggered the flight stabilizers and launched himself at the ceiling.

Good, good, gotta run before you can crawl. The repulsor tech whirred and whined, a distinctive, glorious sound. Tony hovered, then wobbled a little. He wasn’t quite as skilled with flight as he wanted to be, but this was good, he was balanced, he was…

Going to run right over his work-station and melt his computer.

Crap. Crap. _Crap_.

“Dum-E, you’re on fire suppression,” Tony exclaimed as several packets of paper burst into flames. “Crap.”

“Tones, come down from there!”

“Yeah, working it, honeybear, you just…” The wall was coming up really fast. And that was probably not a good angle. Tony was just calculating the speed of impact when...

 _Ow_.

Tony tried to sit up. “Wha hapn?”

“You hit your head on the ceiling, y’idjit,” Rhodes said.

Dum-E wandered over and doused them with flame retardant.

“Oh, iccccck!” Jan exclaimed. “My clothes! Tony!” She jumped up and immediately started brushing the chemicals off her shirt and skirts.

 _Oh, my head._ Dum-E waved the fire extinguisher at them. “No. Don’t you even.”

“Right,” Jan said. She hadn’t managed to repair her outfit. “No more sciencing. I need new clothes and you two need coffee and food and --”

“You already said the magic words, Jan,” Rhodey said. “Tony will follow you anywhere with the promise of coffee.”

“I like you already,” Jan said. “I bet Clint’s already there. He practically lives at the Bean There. You’ll like Clint. And if you supply him with pizza, he’ll like you. Come on.”

Tony sighed and let Jan continue to drag him around the campus. Eventually, they’d all have to go to classes, right? He felt like she was showing him off; a prize. The new guys, already a jewel in her crown. Not that she wasn’t fun and sweet and nice, but…

Tony pressed his hand over the arc-reactor, feeling the thrum and buzz that kept him alive. He was just tired. Coffee. Coffee would help. Maybe a doughnut.

***

“Hey, look, it’s the _scientists_ ,” Carol said. Her voice was harsh, angry. She peered across the edge of the stadium.

“Aw, come on, Caro, lighten up,” Coulson said, flexing his prosthetic. “They’re not all bad and without their help a lot of us would be in trouble.”

“Because you have Kree blood in you, same’s me,” Carol said. “You were honored with the T.A.H.I.T.I. project. That blood makes you special.”

“Coulson was special even before that,” Steve protested. He was rewarded with Coulson’s adoring smile.

“You sure you don’t want to date Coulson?” Bucky teased.

Steve grinned. “Nah, Coulson’s got the hots for one of them tool-users,” He glanced over at the group trudging past the stadium. “Hey, Phil, Clint’s with ‘em. Wanna go over an’ meet the new guys?”

Bucky was a new guy, himself, but because he’d been friends with Steve before the serum, and they both knew Coulson and Carol from way back, he was slotting in with his old group rather than getting the notoriety of being a new guy. It was fine, Bucky didn’t want any more attention, really. He was mostly happy to be back with his friends and in a place where his mechanical arm didn’t stand out like a beacon.

“Yeah, sure,” Coulson said, trying to be all casual. It wasn’t working; Bucky could see the way he was brushing his fingers through his hair and straightening out his clothes.

“Tell me about the guy,” Bucky suggested.

“Clint? Oh, he’s amazing. The world’s best archer,” Coulson said. “Cute and funny and…”

Carol rolled her eyes. “Come on, or it’s gonna look like we’re chasin’ em on purpose.”

“Yeah, heaven forbid someone think you want to be _friends_ ,” Steve said.

Despite that, they were all moving at a pretty good clip across the field and were perfectly angled to cut off the group. Bucky was more interested in watching how flustered Coulson was getting.

“Oh, hey, Peggy!” Suddenly Steve’s entire demeanor changed. He was standing straighter, puffing his chest out, and Bucky was tempted to laugh. He backed up a few steps, dancing around so he could get a better look as Steve attempted to court a girl. He bumped into someone.

“Hey, watch it!” Someone said. A splash of wetness and heat fell over the metal arm and Bucky hissed.

“Ow!” He clutched at his arm, the synthetic nerves squeaking with pain as the heat traveled through the metal plates, as sugar and milk spilled into the joints. Crap. Why did Bucky wear sleeveless shirts again? Oh, right, because cloth got caught in the plates all the time. Damn thing was freaking inconvenient, and now he was going to have to go to the lab and hope that Madam Hydra had time to work on his arm again, and Bucky really did not like that woman, not at all. “Can you just be a little more --”

He whirled on the person who’d spilled coffee on him, ignoring the fact that if he hadn’t been walking backward, Bucky wouldn’t have run over --

_Tony._

“Oh, my god, Bucky!”


	3. Look at Me, I'm Sandra Dee

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't drink (no)  
> Or swear (no)  
> I don't rat my hair (eew)  
> I get ill from one cigarette  
> (cough, cough, cough)  
> Keep your filthy paws  
> Off my silky drawers  
> Would you pull that crap with Annette?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those like 9-10 of you who kudo'd and bookmarked and commented on the other copy of this fic, I apologize! Somewhere I messed up and 2 copies of the draft posted. I couldn't consolidate them, so I just deleted the one with less kudos... (so, if you kudo'd yesterday, feel free to hit that little heart again, in case it got deleted by accident!)

“Tony!”

For just a moment, Tony was happier than he’d ever been in his life. Seeing Bucky again was like being relieved of a pain he wasn’t even aware that he’d been suffering. He barely noticed the gang of followers around Bucky, a tall blond man and a matching woman, a thinner boy with a messenger bag and an excited smile, and behind them, a younger girl who’d expanded her ear so she might be able to hear better.

Later, Tony would remember the sudden sparks of interest in several pairs of eyes, the crude gesture that the woman made.

He reached out a hand, meaning to take the one Bucky would offer, because of course he would, but there was nothing.

“Is this the guy you spent all summer bangin’?” the woman asked, her lip curling in a sneer.

Tony wasn’t sure what his face was doing, the searing pain barely registered against his disbelief.

“What?” Bucky said, turning. The scatter-shot of emotions on Bucky’s face were almost too fast to read. Guilt, anger, embarrassment.

“Oh, good job, Buck,” the skinny kid -- he had a fake hand, Tony saw, as the motors whirred in his wrist -- “That’s Tony _Stark_. You know, he’s like one of the richest guys in the world, his father invented my car, my Lola, an’--”

“No, wasn’t him,” Bucky said, expression shuttered. “Just a friend.”

The bottom fell out of Tony’s world. _What_?

His brain was faster than his heart, laying out thoughts that he absolutely did not want to hear. The first was that Bucky was lying. That he’d told his friends that things had gone a lot further than Tony had been prepared to go, had been _bragging_. Not uncommon, really. Tony knew that. He might have implied more to his friends of how much he was in love, of how much Bucky loved him. Because quite obviously, looking at Bucky’s face now, there was no love there. Bucky didn’t want to be caught in the lie; have Tony deny it and make Bucky look a fool.

Or, the other possibility; that there had been _someone else_.

Could there have been a someone else? That thought made Tony want to shiver and wrap his arms around himself and rage and rail against it.

“Well, that’s good,” the woman said, flipping her short hair back. “Good to know you’re not dippin’ it in the technicals.”

“Oh, what would you know about it?” Jan was there, angry, her fists clenched. “It’s not like you _earned_ your place, you were just one success. An accident more than anything.” That was dangerous, Tony knew. If Jan triggered her pym particles, she could really hurt the woman. Maybe. The woman had called them _technicals_ , which meant she was something else. A mutant, or alien, or--

“Sorry,” Carol said, not sounding sorry in the least. “Sorry I’m awesome!” She held out her hand for a high five and Bucky gave it to her, gamely.

“There’s no call for that,” the blond man said. “Scientists do good work. I’d be dead without it.” Tony had read about Captain America; one of his father’s pet projects, the super-soldiers. Tony’d been weighed and found wanting against Steve Rogers for most of his life.

“Best part of you came out of a bottle,” someone said, and oh, look, that was Tony, opening his mouth and getting nasty in response to the sudden shock and hurt.

“Yeah? Big man with a flying suit of armor?” the man demanded. “I know about you, Stark. I’ve seen the footage. Take off that armor and what are you?”

 _Nothing_. Tony put a hand protectively over his arc-reactor. “Billionaire, genius, philanthropist. And the son of the man who made you, _Captain_.” He didn’t usually lean on his father’s name if he could help it, but maybe these people needed to be reminded just who the hell Tony Stark was and how much this campus owed to his family.

“Come on, Tones,” Rhodey said, putting a hand on Tony’s arm and pulling him away. “We don’t need to stay here and put up with this.”

“Yeah,” Clint said. “Think they’re so tough. All of us got in here on _pure talent_.” He flicked a blue-eyed glare at the guy with the messenger bag. “Right, Philip?”

“I think you’re very talented,” the one called Philip said. “Look, Clint, I… er, I did get a car this summer, I’d love to take you for a ride.”

The cat-calls and not-subtle high fives behind Philip’s back gave lie to that particular bit of flirting, and as one, Tony’s group of friends turned their backs on the gang. Tony lingered for just a moment and then went with Rhodey. “I don’t understand,” he said, softly. “He was so nice, over the summer.”

“Don’t worry about him,” Jan said, taking Tony’s other arm. “We’ll find you someone just right for you. Look, why don’t you come over to me and Peggy’s dorm-room tonight? It’s cozier than your penthouse, but it’ll be nice. We’ll get pizza and some ice cream and we can have a good time. Yeah? Just us, those lab rejects need not apply.”

“Yeah,” Peggy said. “Can’t believe them; they’re only in here because people like us made them better. And then act like we’re the ones who aren’t heroes. I’ll show them. I’m going to be the best Shield agent ever, once I graduate.”

“Believe it, Pegs,” Clint said. “You should see this girl handle a pistol. She really shoots like a girl.”

“If you mean I hit every damn thing I aim at, you’re right there, Clint,” Peggy said. She flounced her victory curls. “And I can kick your ass with a chair leg.”

“You don’t need to kick my ass,” Clint protested. “I’m not the one being an asshole. Kick Steve’s ass, that’ll show him.”

“And to think,” Peggy said, sniffing disdainfully, “I thought Captain America owed me a dance.”

***

Bucky stood there, watching Tony stalk away, surrounded by his friends.

Carol rolled her eyes, grabbed Phil, and the two of them went off to work on Phil’s car, Carol’s mocking laughter lingering in the air like smoke.

“Hey, man,” Steve said. He put an arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Don’t let ‘em get to you. Scientists, you know. They just… they’re just not our kind of people. See us as lab rats, more often than not.”

Bucky waved him off. “It’s not that,” he said, not even knowing how to explain. Watching Tony. Couldn’t help but watch the way Tony’s hips moved, angry as he was. _Walking away_ as he was.

Knowing one hundred percent that he deserved it. He’d… he didn’t even know why he’d said the things he did. Shock, maybe. Little bit of Carol nudging at him. Feeling embarrassed and caught out. And damn, the things he’d said that he and Tony had done, didn’t want those getting back to Tony. He sneered at himself, let it show on his face.

“Yeah?” Steve said. “I guess. Look, you want me to talk to him for you?”

“Nah, don’t do anything stupid,” Bucky said. What the hell was Steve going to say that wasn’t going to make it worse? He and Tony had been practically chewing each other’s heads off right away. It was going to take a disaster to get the two of them talking nicely to each other. Or a miracle, and right now, Bucky did not believe in miracles.

“How could I?” Steve asked. “I’d be leaving all the stupid right here.”

“Punk,” Bucky said, shoving his friend.

“Jerk,” Steve responded. “Look, you can make it up to him.”

“I don’t need to--”

“Don’t lie to me, Buck,” Steve said. “You don’t wear your heart on your sleeve, but I know you. It’ll be fine. We’ll swing by Jan’s dorm later, crash their party. You can talk to him, then. I’m sure you can smooth your way out of it.”

“And you can try to suck up to Peggy Carter,” Bucky suggested, teasing.

“Two birds, one shield,” Steve said. “Come on, let’s grab some grub. This’ll all seem better on a full stomach.”

***

The radio was blaring as Tony sat on the sofa, ice cream pint in one hand, spoon in the other. The sleepover was supposed to help Tony feel better, but Jan had decided to use it as an excuse to eat a lot of dessert and to force people into modeling her absurd fashion choices.

“Hey, hey, hey,” the DJ came on, interrupting the Guardians of the Galaxy’s latest smash hit with his inane patter. “This here’s Justin Hammer, bringing the hammer down on these hits… and what’s this heavy mental nonsense, tunes from beyond the stars, yeah, right. Sharp-shooter pick of the week -- and no one shoots as sharp as Justin Hammer, let me tell you about my ex-wife missile -- going out to Norman and Octavius, be sure to stop in at Osborn’s for all your chemical needs. I give you… Vindicated, by Dashboard Confessional…”

Rhodey was sitting near the radio, listening intently to the DJ. “Have you seen him before? Hammer, I mean? He sometimes does some live-DJing around. Nice guy, really sweet.”

“Awww,” Clint said. “Rhodey’s got a crush. Better than any of the guys around here.” He snorted, looked at his phone, then said, “Toss me a beer, wouldja?” Rhodey fished around in the bucket and tossed something at Clint, which he caught, one handed, barely even looking. “Here’s to the crappy boyfriend options at Avenger’s Academy.”

“Aw, Tony didn’t get a drink,” Jan pointed out.

Tony shivered. “No, thanks,” he said. “I don’t…. I don’t drink.” He didn’t drink beer, much. That was a lie, straight up. Howard had always had a very firm idea of what made up a Stark Man. Iron and alcohol. He’d been forced to learn to drink scotch by the time he was in middle school, and he’d suffered from the headaches and vomiting that went along with too much alcohol for so long he’d decided he was going to stop drinking, as long as he was away from the Stark Mansion and his father and didn’t actually have to prove anything, anymore.

“Oh, what a fibber,” Peggy said. She poured a glass of wine into a cup and then swigged out of the bottle, handing the cup over to Jan. “I’ve heard about Stark men and their tendencies.”

“Don’t believe everything you hear,” Tony said. He resolutely took another bite of the slowly melting ice cream. He knew himself damn well, and he could get messed up with the best of them. But he also knew his own moods, and if he started drinking now, he was likely to end up either dancing naked on the table (not good if he wanted to keep his chest hidden) or try to track down Bucky and beg Bucky to love him (not good if Tony wanted to keep his heart hidden.) In either case, beer or wine wasn’t going to get the job done.

The smell of Jan’s e-cigarette filled the air, sickeningly sweet, like fake pancake syrup. Tony wrinkled his nose, trying not to breathe it in too much. The arc-reactor took up too much space in his chest; his lungs were at eighty-percent capacity even on a good day.

“Want some?” Jan offered the end of the smoke around and her vape went around the room like a joint. Even if Tony had ever started to smoke, the arc-reactor was going to object to the habit. Rhodey knew that, he was the only one who did, who wasn’t a doctor.

“Hey, come on, Clint,” Rhodey said when the e-cig came his way, drawing the other boy toward the balcony. “I’m told you can hit the trash can from here with a beer can, I’d like to see that.”

 _Good old Rhodey_ , Tony thought. A few minutes later, Jan followed them out to the balcony and finished her smoke, out of Tony’s smell. Just as well, he could feel his chest closing up just from a few minutes exposure.

When they came back in, Janet was on a mission.

“You need to change your whole look, Tony,” she said. “I mean, what is this even? Heavy metal t-shirts and ratty jeans? I wouldn’t date you.”

“Thanks,” Tony scoffed, annoyed. No, this wasn’t what he wore to impress, but back at the beach, he hadn’t even been trying to impress Bucky, that hadn’t been in the plan at all. On the other hand, apparently he hadn’t, actually, impressed Bucky.

“You’re welcome!” Jan said, apparently either missing, or ignoring, the sarcasm. “Come on, strip. Let’s see what base material I’m working with here.”

Tony couldn’t help it, his hand pressed over the arc-reactor, set and doing its job inside his chest. He didn’t want people to see, couldn’t have people seeing that. “No, that’s okay. Just tell me what you want me to wear and I’ll change in the bathroom.”

Jan picked a few pieces out of her closet, holding them up to Tony’s face. “Here, these are good colors for you, let’s try those.” Tony folding the outfits over his arm and headed off to the bathroom, just as Clint and Rhodey came back inside.

“Oh, my god, he is so straight-laced,” Clint complained, and Tony closed the door on his voice. “Changing in the _bathroom_ , oh, my god.”

Tony inhaled, then blew out all the air in his lungs at once. It ached, but he held his breath until his head was swimming. Why the hell did he think he could make it here? Maybe he was out from under Howard’s thumb, but he’d landed himself right back in the middle of people who wanted to tell him what to drink and what to do and how to look and what to wear.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

There wasn’t anything interesting there. No wonder Bucky didn’t want to associate with him where his friends could see. Tony held up the outfit Janet had put together for him. Well, maybe he could find someone else.

***

“I thought Tony Stark was supposed to be more of a party-boy than what we’ve got here,” Clint said. He threw himself onto the sofa, legs stretched out. “I mean, he’s a Stark, ain’t he supposed to know how to raise the roof?”

“Well, if you mean literally, like with a winch and pulley, then yes, Tony’s your guy,” Rhodey said. He scowled at Clint. “You shouldn’t believe every rumor you hear.”

“Yeah?” Peggy said. She was in the process of breaking down her service piece and putting it back together again while blindfolded. It was part of Professor Sarkisian's final exam, every year, and people who wanted to specialize in field operations learned to love their weapons. Learned every part of them. “I heard he spent a few months drying out, two years ago. You shouldn’t try to get him to drink, Clint. If he’s boozed out enough to go into rehab that young?”

Clint rolled his eyes. “I’m bored with this conversation. I’m bored with Tony Stark. I’m bored with this school.”

“Yeah, yeah, we get it,” Janet said. “You’re bored. I think he’s cute.”

“I thought you said you wouldn’t date him,” Peggy pointed out. “Don’t you already have your eye on someone?”

Jan smiled, pert and mysterious. “If I did, I certainly wouldn’t tell you all. Bigger bunch of gossips I never heard before in my life. Like old ladies, you are.”

“I heard you just don’t want to have a student/teacher type of conflict,” Clint added. “Which, like, you shouldn’t. Just bang the guy, if you want to. He’ll give you a better grade. You have a bit of fun. Win-win all the way around.”

Jan rolled her eyes and made a face. “I am not going to bang one of the professors,” she said. “And even if I was, that’s got nothing to do with why I’m dropping out of school. I don’t want to be a superhero. I don’t really think I’ve got what it takes. I think fashion is my calling. I want to make dresses and train models and do runway shows. I think that’s what I want to do with my life. School is boring. And I don’t like the idea of having to get up early to fight crime.”

“I don’t even wanna fight crime,” Clint commented, staring up at the ceiling. He knew better than to want things like that. Fighting crime. He was just a dumb runaway kid who ended up getting way better at archery than anyone on the planet had ever managed. He wasn’t a hero, he was a one-shot gimmick. He’d been a thief and a thug for hire before he came to school. Clint Barton: Hero. Not going to happen. “I just like playing with all the toys and tech.”

“So, we do have something in common, after all,” Tony said, coming out of the bathroom.

Clint shifted his gaze and about had to scrape his jaw up off the floor.

Gone was the scruffy grease-monkey and what stood in front of all of them, preening, was a gorgeous, glorious businessman. Tony looked pretty damn sharp in a suit. His hair was spritzed up, standing spiky and stylish and he had a pair of red-tinted sunglasses on. The simple cut of the suit was made up for in everything that it showed off; Tony’s broad shoulders and impressive biceps, the way his leg curved gracefully and the sheer perfection of his ass. He turned a quick, prancing circle, letting everyone drink in his perfection.

“Yeah, you look sharp,” Jan said. She moved over, adjusting Tony’s tie and brushing off non-existent lint.

“You had to waste time with Tony, didn’tja?” Clint asked. He stared out the window, pretty sure he was right. “Couldn’t make me look good, instead?”

Yeah, that was Lola. Coulson’s new car, pulling up on the curb on the other side of the dorms. The rest of the Commandos piled out, although Coulson stayed in the driver’s seat a bit longer, hands caressing the steering wheel, before he climbed out after his friends.

“What? Tony? He needed the most work,” Jan said.

“Gee, thanks,” Tony muttered. He crossed the room and ended up pressed up against Clint. “What are you… oh.”

“Don’t worry, Tones,” Rhodey said. “You don’t have to talk to Barnes if you don’t want to.”

“You just have to look good and show him what he can’t have,” Peggy added. She slid her gun into her holster, assembled perfectly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *note: Vindicated by Dashboard Confessional is the main theme from Spiderman 2 (the Toby McGuire spiderman, in which he deals with Doc Oc and Harry Osborn, who eventually becomes Green Goblin Jr.)


	4. There are Worse Things I Could Do

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There are worse things I could do  
> than go with a boy or two  
> Even though the neighbourhood  
> thinks I'm trashy and no good  
> I suppose it could be true  
> but there are worse things I could do  
> I could flirt with all the guys  
> smile at them and bat my eyes  
> Press against them when we dance  
> make them think they stand a chance  
> Then refuse to see it through  
> that's a thing I'd never do

The car whined; Tony recognized his father’s repulsor tech almost immediately. Tony himself had done quite a lot with that project over the past few years and had finally developed it enough that he could fly.

The car -- Lola, he’d heard one of the boys call it -- was brilliant red, an older sports car model, what his dad would have called a muscle car. She was beautiful. Tony really itched to get under the hood, see what improvements had been made.

Tony knew that car, of course he did, everyone knew that car. Howard had first put it on display at the Stark Expo decades ago, but he’d tinkered with it a lot until other projects finally shoved it aside. It had been sold, and then sold again, and Tony had lost track of it, but what he’d heard was --

“Put that thing back in the dumpster where you got it from!” Peggy yelled, leaning over the balcony rail, giving the boys below a nice view of her cleavage.

Yeah, that.

“What was that, Peggy Carter?” Steve Rogers said, cupping one ear. “I didn’t quite hear that.”

“Go to hell, Steve Rogers,” Peggy said, twitching her skirts in a flirty manner, entirely at odds with her declaration. She leaned on the rail and pulled out a tube of brilliant red lipstick, painting her mouth.

Carol Danvers, half-Kree and all attitude, jumped out of the back seat and just kept… right on going up. When she was on a level with the balcony, she floated over, still standing on nothing. “Did you say something, _Agent Carter_?”

“She can fly?” Rhodey came up on the other side of Tony, staring. “Why didn’t you tell me that girls can fly, Tones?”

Tony shrugged a shoulder. “Get the War Machine out, take her for a Whole New World moment?” Rhodey had terrible taste in women; Tony hadn’t been too impressed with Danvers and her anti-scientist attitude. For someone who was distinctly under the purview of scientists, Carol seemed a little gate-keeper-ish. Although Tony wasn’t entirely sure he blamed her. He was under the purview of scientists, too. Even if he was the scientist in question. Being a guinea pig probably wasn’t easy; of course there was resentment there. It just didn’t make it easy to make friends.

“Seriously, Tones. Aladdin?”

“What? You could be Goose to her Maverick.”

“Tony, Goose dies at the end,” Rhodey said, crossing his arms and raising one eyebrow.

“Well, how should I know that, honeybear,” Tony said. “I didn’t actually watch the movie. Just… go, go on, ask her out. What’s the worst thing that could happen?”

“She could turn into a villain and stomp us all into the ground,” Clint said. He was already scaling his way down the side of the building, grinning. “This is a school for superheroes, after all. We’re all just one tragic backstory away from taking over the planet.”

“How fast can the suit go?” Rhodey said, eyeing Carol.

“Mach one, maybe?” Tony said. “I haven’t really pushed it. New York traffic aside, there’s nowhere I’ve needed to be that fast. But let me know, if you race her, hmm? I’d like to see the readouts on that.”

Rhodey moved to one side of the balcony and grinned, wide and challenging, at Carol. “Wanna race? I’d just need to drop by Stark Tower and pick up my flight suit.”

Carol’s steel-blue eyes softened a bit. “There should be a handbook for this,” she muttered, then offered him her hand. “I can give you a lift. I love to fly.”

Tony opened his mouth to say something, but Rhodey cut him off. “You can chill, I can take it from here.” And they flew off.

“You gonna come down, Peggy, pretty Peggy-O?” Steve yelled, still looking up from the ground.

Clint dropped off the first floor balcony, rolled, and was headed over to the car. He leaned against the driver’s side, talking with Coulson and doing his very best not to wiggle in place like an overeager puppy. Clint’s crush was adorable and he was telegraphing it everywhere, which meant Coulson probably wasn’t going to miss it. Nope. There he went, shoving Bucky out of the car.

“Don’t wait up for me,” Clint yelled, waving as Coulson threw Lola in gear and they sped off.

“I’m not going to come down for your singing, at any rate, Rogers,” Peggy said.

“Will you come down if I tell you he can look right up your dress from this angle?” Bucky asked.

Peggy squeaked, twitched her dress and backed away from the balcony. “Rude!”

“Hold on,” Jan said. She pushed the red jewel in her belt buckle and dissolved into a speck. For just a second, Tony was petrified as she grabbed him in one hand and Peggy in the other and flew them down to ground level. Wasp as a tiny little insect, was super strong.

“Well, that was exciting,” Tony said, straightening out the lines of his suit.

“You got something to say, Cap?” Peggy said, poking him in the chest with her finger. “Wanna say it from real close?”

Whatever Steve Rogers was going to say, Tony missed it. Bucky came up beside him, nudged him lightly with his shoulder. “Hey, Tony,” Bucky said, his voice low.

“Oh, are you talking to me again?” Tony said, drawing back a little, eyebrow shooting up.  

“Look, I’m sorry about that, okay?” Bucky said. “I just… you caught me by surprise, I wasn’t expecting --”

“To ever see me again, so you thought you could tell lies about me?” Tony asked. He wanted to sneer it, wanted to rub Bucky’s face in it. Wanted to hurt Bucky as much as he’d been hurt, but his voice wasn’t cooperating. He was nearly pleading, wanting an explanation.

“Yes,” Bucky said. “No, no, I mean… I… I don’t know what I mean.” Bucky scuffed at the grass with one toe. Tony couldn’t help but trace down the lines of his leg; the man was so damn gorgeous. Those thighs, in tight denim. _Hnnnngh_. Not fair in the slightest.

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean,” Tony pointed out. He took a few steps away. Not that Cap or Peggy were listening, but Jan might have been, and there was gossip that he just didn’t want spread all over school. Things were going to be hard enough as it was.

“Look, Tony, Tony, sweetheart, baby,” Bucky said. He snatched up Tony’s hand and laced their fingers together. “I know I was awful to you, I been kickin’ myself about it all day. I just… I wanted you to know I was sorry. I didn’t… I didn’t want to hurt you.”

Tony didn’t want to be holding Bucky’s hand, except at the same time, there was nothing he wanted more. Pathetic. “Well, don’t do it again,” Tony said.

“You look real nice, kitten,” Bucky said, glancing at Tony through those ridiculously long eyelashes. “Good enough to take a bite of.”

“Yeah?” Tony couldn’t help but lean into that a little; he’d really liked the way Bucky kissed, all soft nuzzles and his hands on Tony’s hips, mouth moving and breath racing.

“Yeah,” Bucky said. He used his grip on Tony’s hand to reel him in closer. “In fact, I could jus’--”

Tony jerked back as a stinging slap echoed through the air.

“Ow! Peggy!” Steve was saying, hand over the slowly spreading red mark on his cheek. He stared at her for a moment, then, “Come on, Bucky, let’s blow this joint. There aren’t any cool kids here.”

Tony looked down at their joined fingers.

“I… I uh…” Bucky stammered.

“No, you go,” Tony said, rescuing his hand, his heart still beating a little too fast for comfort. He pressed his hand against his chest, not sure if he was trying to keep hold of the arc-reactor or to press the warmth of Bucky’s hand against his heart. In the end, it didn’t make a difference.

“Yeah, I’ll, um… I’m sorry, Tony. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

Tony watched, wordless, as Bucky ran off after his friend. Even in the dim lighting of the campus’s sidewalk lamps, Tony could see how beet red with embarrassment Steve Rogers’ neck was.

“Idiot,” Peggy was saying. She shook her hand out, but she was watching Steve go.

“I… spy with my little eye,” Jan said. She was still tiny and she landed on Tony’s shoulder. “Someone who’s in love.”

Tony thought about brushing her off, like an annoying angel on his shoulder, then slumped. “Yeah, maybe.”

***

The end of the dirt road was quiet, peaceful. Lola’s nose was pointed toward the trees that made up the dead end. The radio was on, quiet and low, barely enough sound to cover the urgent moans and sounds of moving bodies in the car’s backseat.

“Oh, yeah, Coulson, like that,” Clint gasped, arching up under him, pressing his body up against the upperclassman. “Like that.”

“Yeah?” Coulson nuzzled at Clint’s neck, peeling the shirt off him. “Look at you, baby.” He ran his artificial hand down Clint’s biceps, tracing the line of muscle. Clint shivered at the touch. “So gorgeous.”

“You like these guns?” Clint joked, bending his arm to make the muscle pop out.

“Oh, don’t do that unless you want my pants to come off,” Coulson scolded him, light and breathless.

Clint blinked for a moment, then flexed _both_ arms. “Anything to get your clothes off faster,” Clint said. He was panting for breath, heart beating like crazy in his chest. He was hard and urgent in his jeans and man, the thought of getting Coulson out of his, spread out naked in the back seat of his car was just… _hnnnnng_ , yeah, maybe it was actually going to happen for him.

Coulson drew back a moment. “Are you… serious?”

“I want you,” Clint said. “Want you so much. I can’t… I can’t wait.”

Coulson licked his lips, hesitated, and that sweet, wanting, urgent, caring look on his face was too much. Clint yanked him down, slotted their mouths together. “Yes, Coulson, yes.”

A few minutes of fumbling and then -- “Well, crap.”

“What?” God, Clint literally could not wait any longer, he was burning up, he wanted Coulson’s hands, his mouth, all of it, please, please now.

“Condom broke,” Coulson said. “I’m sorry, we could just --”

“It’s okay,” Clint said. “I trust you. You can trust me.”

Coulson was shivering under Clint’s hand. He wanted it, too, Clint knew. Wanted Clint. Wanted this. “I --”

“Come on, baby,” Clint said. He spread his thighs open, welcoming Coulson into the cradle between them.

“Yeah, okay.”

Clint let his head tip back and groaned with need as Coulson got on with it.

They were still basking in the afterglow when a sudden crunch hit the side of the car, knocking them onto the floorboards.

“Look what we have here,” a sweet, harsh voice said. “I think someone’s trespassing on Asgardian turf.”

A dozen or more Asgardians piled around Lola, rocking the car, mocking. Some of them were armed with knives. At least Clint and Coulson had both pulled their pants back on, Clint thought.

“Get them out, boys,” Loki Odinson said. He was a beautiful man, regal, with a green jacket and yellow trim. Beautiful, but cold and cruel.

Clint was hauled out of the car and thrown onto the ground. Loki stepped on his foot.

“Kneel.”

Someone revved a car nearby. Once both Coulson and Clint were on the road, hands abraded by gravel, scared and sick and angry and humiliated, the car spun out, crashed into the side of Lola with a sickening crunch. They kept pushing until Lola was crushed up against the side of a tree.

Loki was powered. He slammed his staff into the ground beside Clint and Clint was lost to blue and green swirls of power.

“Get off him.” Coulson was fighting.

“In the end, you will all kneel,” Loki said.

Coulson struggled, then leaped to his feet. His solid-light shield sprung into existence as he got a hand in front of Clint’s face, blocking off the flow of magic. The magic reflected into Loki’s face, and while it didn’t seem to hurt him, he was befuddled for a moment.

“Come on,” Loki said, scoffing. “This isn’t any fun. Let’s go.”

Coulson was at Clint’s side as soon as they piled into their cars and left. “Are you hurt, baby?”

“I’m fine,” Clint said. He clutched onto Coulson’s arm, shaking with anger and fear. “I’m fine.”


	5. Greased Lightning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This car could be a major piece of machinery  
> This car could be  
> ... syst-o-matic  
> ...hydro-matic...  
> ...ultro-matic...  
> Why, it could be...Greased Light'nin'!  
> (Greased Light'nin')  
> We'll get some overhead lifters and four barrel quads, oh yeah  
> (Keep talkin'. Oh, keep talking!)  
> Fuel injection cutoff and chrome plated rods, oh yeah  
> (I'll go get the money; I'll kill to get the money!)

“Who needs a tow-truck when we’ve got a Hulk?” Bucky and Steve, with Professor Banner assisting, they managed to get Lola unwrapped around the tree and the frame straightened enough to push the car back to the shop.

Coulson was patting the banged up and dented vehicle, a stricken expression on his face, like the thing was his child who was in intensive care. Carol was mocking him, gently, for Carol, but still. Bucky had to admit, watching Coulson croon over the car and stroke over the ruined paint job, was a little funny. In the end, it was only a car.

But it was pretty obvious that Coulson was upset.

Not to mention the fact that someone could have been hurt pretty bad, which just seemed like a terrible thing to do. Someone ought to have words with Loki. A professor, maybe.

“It’s a good undercarriage, Coulson,” Bucky said. “She might be tore up, but everything mechanical can be fixed. We can rebuild her.”

Bucky liked cars; he and Steve had seen this particular car at the Stark Expo. That Coulson had managed to get his hands on Lola at all was pretty damn amazing. And Bucky was pretty good with mechanics.

“You think so?” Coulson fretted. “Might not be easier to just scrap her and scrounge for parts?”

“Nah, you don’t want to do that,” Bucky said. They pushed the car into the garage and onto the lift. “This baby? We can make her purr like a kitten.” Not to mention the fact that none of them -- as experiments, one and all -- had the kind of money it would take to get a new car. Rebuilding at least saved some money. Lola had a solid frame. A little welding, some spare parts scrounged from the junkyard behind Stark Towers. It could happen.

“If nothing else,” Bucky said, encouragingly, “you’ve got a resident expert.”

Coulson flicked his eyes in Carol’s direction, then at Bucky. “Yeah, maybe. If you sweet talk him.”

Bucky wasn’t sure his sweet-talking was going to do any good whatsoever. He was pretty sure Tony hadn’t actually forgiven him, and he wasn’t sure that he deserved being forgiven anyway.

“Talk to your boy,” Bucky suggested. “Clint seemed all up on you, might be a better in with Tony than me.”

Bucky hauled out his tool box, wondering where to start. The car hadn’t been in prime shape even before Loki decided to use his wondermobile as a battering ram. Speaking of, Bucky wasn’t sure where Loki had gone, but if his car was in half as bad of shape as Lola -- and why would it have suffered the collision unscathed, they might have the opportunity to do some prime sabotage.

Coulson shook his head, running his hands through his hair. “I don’t know that Clint’s my boy,” he said. “I mean... last night…”

“Loki crashed your date, I get it,” Bucky said. He pushed Lola up on the lift to get an idea of the undercarriage damage. Those repulsor lifts were cracked; they’d need new specialized parts -- to hell with that, they were _experimental_ parts. Tony was going to have to help them, or Lola was never getting off the ground again. Bucky removed the discs with his wrench and laid them gently aside. He wasn’t even sure he dared to take them apart; knowing nothing about the insides. “But, still… we can make it work, right? I mean, just because some of us are science experiments?”

Coulson gave Bucky a significant look. “Are you asking me for permission to date Tony Stark?”

Bucky shook his head. “Not… permission. Ain’t like Tony belongs t’ anyone.”

“You want to know if you’ll still belong with us.”

Bucky hated it when someone laid out his fears and insecurities like they were bugs under a magnifying glass. “Somethin’ like that.”

“Well, Cap’s with you to the end of the line,” Coulson pointed out. “And Carol’s just loud. Not to mention--” He raised his voice, giving Carol a pointed look “--someone went flying with War Machine last night.”

“Hey, he’s almost one of us,” Carol said, buffing her nails. “It’s not like he made the War Machine, he’s just an experimental pilot.”

“What do you got against scientists anyway?” Steve asked. “Erskine was really good to me.”

“I don’t like bein’ a guinea pig,” she said. “Scientists don’t care about us as people. Just as _results_.”

Bucky didn’t say anything, but he didn’t exactly disagree with Carol. It wasn’t like Sarkissian and Zola were nice to Bucky, wasn’t like getting the metal arm wasn’t traumatic, wasn’t like the months he spent trying to recover his memory after they accidentally erased half of his life was _fun_. And it wasn’t even like they were properly sympathetic. He got his memory back from sheer force of will, not because of any assistance from them.

“Come on, Commandos,” Steve said, “less talk, more work.”

“This’ll be the finest piece of machinery on this campus,” Bucky promised.

“‘Specially finer than Stark,” Carol scoffed.

Well, Bucky wasn’t sure about _that_ , either.

***

 _It couldn’t hurt_ , Tony thought. Janet introduced him to Brock Rumlow, a huge guy, just enormous. He was almost as muscular as Steve, with the same sort of rugged handsomeness that Bucky had. A little less sweet. Brock was like a double-espresso, whereas Bucky was coffee and sugar. _Couldn’t hurt to meet new people._

If Tony had a type (he totally had a type) than Brock Rumlow fit it just as well as Bucky Barnes did. Thick, gorgeous brown hair, a scruff of facial hair, killer arms. Brock’s eyes were rich loam brown instead of stormy gray, but they were lighter, happier. Brock laughed more. A bright, thoroughly amused sound that made you want to hear it again. Enough so that Tony was able to ignore, for the most part, how uncomfortable the topics that made Brock laugh were.

Brock was a Shield agent-in-training. Expert marksman, hand-to-hand combat, physical training. He wasn’t about the lab or the classroom, he was out there in the field, doing it. Tony could only admire Brock’s raw strength and stamina.

If he could only admire it because Brock talked about almost nothing else, well, that was beside the point, right?

Besides, Brock was, when his attention was drawn away from his Strike team and his classes and his workouts, admiring of Tony as well. Thought Tony was hot. Thought Tony looked good on Brock’s arm. Turned them toward the mirrored surface of Stark Tower to admire the way they looked together.

“We should totally go out, kid,” Brock said, balling up a fist and using it to lightly nudge Tony’s jaw. “Knock everybody dead, we would.”

“Yeah, we can… we can go out,” Tony said, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his stomach. There was no reason to feel that way. Brock was nice. Brock was handsome. Brock was going places in Shield.

“Come on, lemme buy you a soda,” Brock said. He dragged one arm around Tony’s waist and stuffed a few fingers in Tony’s back pocket to steer him around. And if Tony was a little uncomfortable with that, it was sort of validating to watch how everyone on campus turned to stare at them as they passed.

All around the Quad were shops and stalls; coffee and ice-cream, hot dogs and schwarma, a little pizza place, a pretzel stand. Brock grabbed an extra large cherry cola and two straws. Brock scowled at a couple of younger students, who hastily vacated a seat at a prime table, and gestured grandly to Tony.

Tony watched as Viv and Kamala grabbed another table, this one with a rickety umbrella that had most of the table in full sun. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said. Already, his mind was whirling, imagining retracting umbrellas that would auto-sense when a student was near and in need for a shady place to sit. Minimal self-repair would be easy enough to install. Tony pulled out his tablet and started sketching up design plans.

“It’s okay, kid,” Brock said. He pushed both straws through the top of the cup and leaned in. Tony couldn’t help but smile, it was such a dorky, obvious ploy. He let himself be drawn in, took a long sip of the soda, his face kissing distance from Brock’s, watching the warm glitter of Brock’s gaze and feeling… appreciated. Admired. It was good.

Tony sat back. “Tell me about the range,” he said, pulling up his specs program and doodling the ideas for the umbrellas in it. He’d meant to get over to the range anyway; Peggy had been complaining about the dummies there, and how bad the scoring module was. Tony had promised her that he’d check into it, and he meant to do that.

“Hey, Stark,” someone said, dropping into the seat next to him. “Brock.”

“Agent Romanoff,” Brock said. Tony looked up to see a red-haired woman that he didn’t know.

“Hi,” he offered.

“Oh, yeah, you’re new, I forget, not everyone knows me yet,” she said, flipping her hair back. “Agent Natasha Romanoff. Look, Director Fury sent me to talk to you, I’ve got a whole list of projects that your dad left undone, and some of them are tagged urgent and we were thinking that you could do them for us, since you’re here and everything.”

She dropped a hard drive into his palm, then closed his fingers over it. “Don’t lose that, it’s important. Pretty sure at least two of your class-project requirements can be filled by my equipment.”

“How come you get an upgrade?”

“Because I’m better than everyone else at this school, including you, Rumlow,” Natasha said. “You can just sweet talk your boy into an upgrade, I have to get it pushed through the syllabus. “Oh! Hey, Bucky!” She stood up, leaned over the walkway guard to show off a well-rounded backside. “Come here, sweetie, I wanted to talk to you anyway!”

Tony swallowed, his throat dry. He leaned in and took another swig of soda. Yep, there was Bucky, wearing a blue hoodie that he had pulled up over his hair and his hands tucked in the pockets. He looked… sad, somehow.

“Nat,” he said, “Hey, Tony. And uh… Rumlow, is it?”

Brock rolled his eyes. “Leader of Strike Team, and don’t you forget it.”

Bucky bristled. “I could be in Strike Team, if I wanted.”

“You ain’t even got what it takes, buddy.” Brock dismissed this out of hand.

“So, uh, Bucky,” Nat said, leaning further over the rail, and don’t think that Tony missed exactly where Bucky’s eyes went. “I was talking with Sharon after you left last night, and she said you were made from _boyfriend material._ ”

Bucky shrugged, “I think I’m Strike Team material.”

“Well, I guess we can see about that, yeah?” Brock said. “Try-outs for agents in training start tomorrow.”

Tony wouldn’t have noticed, except he was watching every flicker of emotion on Bucky’s face for… some hint of something, he wasn’t even sure, and saw Bucky swallow hard. “Tomorrow, really? Okay, yeah, I’ll be there, you’ll see.”

“You gonna come over again tonight?” Nat asked, ignoring Brock.

“Last night? After --” _After we talked_ , Tony thought, but didn’t say.

“I just needed to copy down some homework,” Bucky said. “Carol was talking my ear off and I missed the assignment.”

“Yeah, but then you staaaayed for a while,” Nat teased.

Tony finished off his share of the cherry soda, leaned in and kissed Brock’s cheek. “This was nice, we should do it again, sometime.”

“Don’t forget that harddrive, Stark,” Nat said.

Always nice to know that Tony was wanted for something, even if it was just his brain and money, preferably far away from everyone else. Off to the lab.

***

Bucky was still shuddering from propaganda trials when they made it out onto the range. Working with Professor Sarkissian (Madame Hydra, he would always think of her by her semi-villain sobriquet) was nerve-wracking. She was the sponsoring professor for several of the classes, including _Life Lessons_ , and the less Bucky thought about that, the happier he was going to be.

Being a Shield Agent was more than just hitting a target, but Bucky was getting an up-close and personal look at how much work it was going to be. Studying wasn’t one of his favorite things to do. Pym’s classes on Portal Tech and the Macroverse were not going to be a lot of fun, either. Especially since his metal arm worked Pym Particles differently than his skin and bones body. That had been painful, and embarrassing, but at least Kamala had gotten him straightened out, eventually.

“Just keep in mind, Winter Molder,” Rumlow said, slapping Bucky’s shoulder. “I’m the best marksman around here.”

“My name is _Bucky_ ,” Bucky muttered, rotating the metal arm. Jesus, that hurt, what the hell was he doing, looking at the schematics and getting the weak points?

“I thought the best marksman around here was Clint,” Tony said, coming up behind them. “Don’t mind me, I’m just updating the targeting system and getting in better, more accurate life model decoys. When we’re talking about real people, we want to make sure we shoot to disable. Not kill shots.”

“Aw, come on, kid,” Rumlow said, grabbing Tony around the waist and pulling him in. “You’re no fun. Villains don’t pull their punches, why should we?”

“Because it takes talent to disable,” Bucky said. “And for that matter, every disabled takes out at least one more, because usually people will go to the aid of their comrades, take ‘em to medical, get them out of the line of fire.”

“What the hell sort of villains have you been dealing with?” Rumlow scoffed. He didn’t bother to aim, just turned and fired at one of the targets at the far end of the field.

“Yikes!” Tony yelped, jumping back. “Safety, Brock! Can we not have any shooting while I am on the field of fire?”

“Don’t worry kid, I ain’t gonna hit you,” Rumlow teased. “You’re more valuable alive than dead.”

“Well, yes, thank you very much,” Tony muttered. “Still. Stop shooting at the merchandise.”

Tony seemed more irate that Rumlow was shooting at the target bots that he was trying to set up, rather than coming close to shooting Tony. Bucky checked his pistols. He had four that he’d gotten as part of his Academy start-up kit, plus a very nice longarm that he’d gotten special. They felt good in his hands, his metal finger curled around the trigger like a lover’s kiss.

Rumlow lined up another shot. Bucky glanced at him; the numbers behind the minutes of angle calculation flashed in his head, and he was attending Tony’s funeral. His metal arm snapped out, faster than thought, faster than formulas.

The metal arm shrieked as the bullet tore into the palm of his hand, electric nerves sizzling up into his shoulder, juddering down his spine. “Ow.” The only reason that Bucky wasn’t screaming was that his reactions were overloaded with a dump of adrenaline. He knew he was in agony, but that mattered less than the fact that Rumlow was _going to shoot Tony_.

“What th’ hell, Barnes?” Rumlow lowered his gun and stared at him.

Bucky pinched the metal wrist between flesh fingers, trying to cut off the agony at the joint; what the hell kind of bullets was Rumlow using? Most of Madame Hydra’s experiments with ballistics against the materials in the arm had been successfully deflected. The only material that the arm wasn’t mostly impervious to was vibranium, and a direct shot with adamantium bullets, especially from a high-powered rifle, could penetrate. But why would Rumlow be using those for practice?

“Bucky?” Tony was there, his hands on Bucky’s arm. “Hang on, baby, hang on, I got this, just, here, lift --” Tony popped up one of the maintenance panels and stuck a slender tool inside. He gritted his teeth and suddenly the pain was gone.

Bucky’s legs went out from under him in the absence of agony.

“Well, that was just stupid,” Rumlow was saying, and Bucky could barely hear the words, his head was ringing and his arm was still shooting strange, random data into his brain. At least it didn’t hurt, but --

“JARVIS,” Tony said, “run trajectory analysis if Bucky hadn’t interfered with that last shot.”

Bucky wasn’t able to look away.

JARVIS, the Stark tower’s Security system and Tony’s personal AI, pushed out a three-dimensional model, painting over a wire-frame system. Realistic. Too realistic.

Bucky already knew what they’d see and he couldn’t look away.

Model-Rumlow at the firing line, talking with Bucky, shooting, not really paying attention to where model-Tony was in the field of fire. Model-Tony puttering around, setting up the targets, trusting that model-Rumlow was, actually, aiming for what he wanted to hit.

Bucky couldn’t look away.

The bullet tore into the model-Tony, exploded through his throat. Clean kill, if anything about that much blood could have been considered _clean_.

“Oh, Jesus,” Bucky said. He wanted to put his metal hand in front of his face, wanted to not look. Realized his right hand was twined with Tony’s fingers, which was why he couldn’t use it. “ _Tony_.”

“You saved my life,” Tony said.

Rumlow scoffed. “I wasn’t _aimin’_ for you.”

“If you had been, perhaps I would be less concerned,” Tony snapped. He got to his feet, pulled Bucky up. “Come on, honey, let’s go back to the Tower, let me see if I can fix this, okay? I’ll make it better, promise.”


	6. We Go Together

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're one of a kind  
> Like dip da dip da dip doowop da doobee doo  
> Our names are signed  
> Boogedy boogedy boogedy boogedy shoobee doowop shebop  
> Chang chang changitty chang shoobop  
> We'll always be like one, wa wa wa one
> 
> When we go out at night and stars are shinin' bright  
> Up in the skies above  
> Or at the high school dance where you can find romance  
> Maybe it might be love

There were probably better ways to fix Bucky’s arm aside from sitting on the man’s lap, but hey, it gave him the excuse of doing so, and Tony wasn’t in the habit of denying himself a few small pleasures. The way Bucky swallowed as Tony shifted around, straddling Bucky’s legs, was somewhat gratifying, too. Tony stuck a tool in his mouth, peering inside the shoulder mechanism.

“Well, the damage shorted out --” Tony muttered around the tool. He wasn’t sure if Bucky could understand him or not. Didn’t really matter. He leaned back to get a better look, didn’t fail to notice the way Bucky’s eyes tracked Tony’s movements. Bucky inhaled, sharp, and Tony realized that his tee had pulled up, baring a strip of his stomach. He left it alone, pretended not to notice. He could take a hint out of Natasha’s playbook, get Bucky looking and thinking about nothing but Tony.

He poked inside the arm with the tool, nudging the connection back into place. “I really need to get a finer laser-welder,” Tony said. “This might… tickle a bit.” He’d turned off as much of the nerve/pain receptors as he could. Bucky didn’t need to be knocked out for the repairs, but there was also no reason for him to suffer. That being said, some of the receptors had to remain on, in order to detect pressure and movement. Totally numb, and Tony couldn’t tell if he was managing the fix or not. But he’d turned them all the way down; mostly pressure and the faint tingling/tickling sensation were the least he could do.

Bucky twitched under him, shifting and squirming. He sucked in his lower lip and his teeth came down to bite there. Entirely unfair, Tony thought. Did the man have _no idea_ how sexy that was? Tony wanted to kiss him, tease that lip out from under his teeth, suck -- Argh! Engineering. Tony was engineering right now and he did not have time to daydream about kissing a man who was blowing hot and cold.

Tony still couldn’t figure out what the problem was -- either with Bucky’s shattered hand, or with Tony’s shattered heart. Did Bucky like him, or was he just trying to put another mark on his bedpost. Tony didn't want to be anyone’s conquest.

“Hold still, I --” Oh, there is was, Tony licked his lip and leaned in closer. He inserted his tool into the narrow gap. “Looks like when you took the shot -- did I thank you for that yet? Thank you for saving my life -- the force of impact threw off this relay.”

“You’re welcome,” Bucky said. Tony poked, prodded, and then was nearly dumped out of Bucky’s lap entirely as his arm moved without warning. Or, maybe it would have been warning, except Tony hadn’t quite thought through the entire implications of what he was doing, and the fact that every reaction had an equal and opposite reaction.

Bucky made a soft, muffled sound, and stretched, his arms going around Tony’s back before he fell to the floor, cradling him in a warm embrace. “Oh, my,” Tony managed. He looked up; Bucky’s face was less than an inch from his, close enough that he could feel Bucky’s breath on his cheek.

“I think I’m going to kiss you,” Bucky said. He didn’t say it with an air of seduction, or even like it was something he was asking. He said it like it was a stone cold fact, and Tony drew in a breath, not sure if he should be insulted or arroused.

“What?” Tony blinked in astonishment, his voice barely a whisper. He didn’t even mean it that way, be he was so taken by surprise that he didn’t get any force behind the word at all.

“I’m going to kiss you,” Bucky repeated.

Tony discovered that he was very much hoping that Bucky would kiss him, that he would push to Tony’s limit, maybe even beyond. He shifted a little in Bucky’s grip, wriggling with a certain amount of seductiveness. Tony had wanted to kiss Bucky stupid when he’d first seen him at the school, and only been prevented by Bucky’s completely baffling attitude. Maybe this would make up for it, Tony thought wildly.

The manner in which Bucky licked his lips in preparation to move in on Tony had him on fire. He couldn’t wait, but he did anyway, keeping himself from reaching for the man by sheer force of will. He wasn’t going to force himself on Bucky, if Bucky didn’t want him anymore, Tony certainly wasn’t going to push, but Tony couldn’t help but think Bucky did, did want him, did care about him, he was just… uncertain, for reasons that Tony didn’t understand.

The way Bucky’s mouth moved, that sinful, voluptuous smirk, was driving Tony wild. It distracted him to madness. He wanted to kiss Bucky senseless, until they were both pliant and receptive to whatever other pleasures might occur to them.

At the same time, Tony desperately wanted to be reassured that this was what Bucky wanted. That _Tony_ was what Bucky wanted. “So, are you actually going to kiss me, or just think about it?” Tony asked, as Bucky lingered and waited and hesitated.

Bucky’s mouth finally touched his, just barely, lips pressed to the corner of Tony’s lips, where the skin was most sensitive. Tony turned his head, caught Bucky’s mouth with his, kissing with sudden ferocity. Bucky was so sweet, his mouth tasted of coffee and something more, something sweeter and undefinable. Tony explored Bucky’s mouth with deep, sweeping strokes of his tongue, learning everything that made Bucky gasp and tighten his grip around Tony’s back. Bucky’s hands slid down, both of them, the heat of flesh, the cool slickness of metal, until he was cradling Tony’s backside. They kissed harder, mouths crushing together with desperate movements. Tony was groaning into Bucky’s mouth as they kissed. Bucky whined in growing agitation and then finally drew back.

“Oh,” Bucky said. His eyes were wide, dark. “You’re… welcome. I’m glad to have done it.”

“What?” Tony blinked, trying to draw his thoughts together. “Oh, Brock, right, the idiot. I don’t think he meant to --”

“No, no, of course not,” Bucky said, sounding like he didn’t mean that at all, was just reassuring.

“Nonetheless, I’m very glad not to have been shot,” Tony said. He wondered if he should point out that Bucky still had his hands on Tony’s ass, still had them pressed together in a manner that had Tony near to swooning.

“Would… er. Would you like t’ go on a date with me?”

Tony couldn’t help the small smile that crept onto his mouth. “I would love to.”

***

Was it too much to ask that his friends leave him alone? It was hard to woo Tony, to keep his attention firm fixed when Carol was on top of him in an instant, as soon as they entered the coffee shop.

Word of Bucky’s daring-do at the range was under vast speculation all over campus; it was amazing how rumors spread so fast. Carol grabbed his arm -- the metal one, and the sensors that Tony had fixed, he’d somehow also upgraded them. His metal arm had always been a good deal less sensitive than his flesh hand, pressure and temperature changes were the limit to what he could _feel_.

But suddenly Tony had done something, he’d done something to the device, and Bucky found himself marveling over the feel of Carol’s fingers on the metal skin.

“Seriously, Fury’s saying that he’s never seen anyone react that fast, doesn’t matter what Rumlow says, captain of the team bull hockey, he’s not that good,” Carol was saying, dragging him off toward the rest of his crew. Natasha was sitting with the group and she beamed, patting the chair next to her.

Bucky turned around to say something to Tony, he wasn’t sure what, invite him to come sit, or to draw Carol’s attention to the fact that he’d arrived with Tony, wanted to stay with Tony.

But Tony was already walking away, nearly halfway across the Quad.

_God damnit._

“Let go, Carol,” Bucky said, wrenching his arm free. He sighed and then ran off after Tony. “Tony, Tony, come on, baby, wait up.”

“No, really, it’s good,” Tony said, not looking around. “You have fun with your friends. I know they don’t want me around.”

“Tony, I… I want you around.”

Tony gave him a quick smile, cracked and fragile like glass. “Look, I don’t want to come between you and your friends, Bucky. I’m not that asshole who --”

“Bucky!” Steve was there, suddenly, throwing his arm around Bucky’s shoulders. “Man, I hear you made the team! You’re gonna be a SHIELD agent. We might be competing against each other, Rumlow’s off as Captain, after the _incident_.”

Good lord, rumor went around quick, quick enough that Rumlow was already losing his leadership role? Bucky blinked. “But aren’t you already Captain?”

“That’s just a code name,” Tony said. “He’s not a real Captain… yet.”

Steve scoffed and dragged Bucky around, back toward the coffee shop. “Come on, lemme --”

“Leggo a minute.” Bucky twisted out of Steve’s grasp and caught up with Tony again. It seemed like he was spending all his time chasing the man around, it was frustrating. He wanted Tony at his side, not being constantly run off by his friends. At the same time… he glanced back at Steve, who was blinking and tapping his foot.

“No, really, it’s obviously not a good time,” Tony said.

“Come on, Tony, give me a chance, this --”

Tony crossed his arms. “How many do you need, Barnes?”

Bucky bit his lip, swallowed the lump in his throat. “Just one more?” _Please, let me get it right this time._

“One more, okay,” Tony said.

“There’s a… there’s a dance tomorrow? We could try that? I promise, it’ll be fun, I’ll treat you right, you’ll see.”

“Okay,” Tony said. “Pick me up at seven.”

***

Janet Van Dyne grumbled as she watched Bucky and Tony talking in the quad. They really were a pretty couple, she thought. She pulled out her sketchbook and started doodling art, the lines of their legs, the way Tony looked in sunglasses. She could do wonders with this, she was an excellent clothing designer. She was the best. She was third generation of fashion leaders.

Just because she’d gotten into the whole idea of being a superhero didn’t mean that her whole life had to be based around it. Especially since the man she was pining over was one of the professors and there were all these conflicts of interest.

Hank wasn’t much older than she was, it’d be a perfectly acceptable relationship, except that she was his student. She was his project. She volunteered, but he’d experimented on her. His second test subject for using the Pym particles.

And she’d become the Wasp, and suddenly everything was about saving the world.

Jan didn’t want to save the world from anything, except maybe its own bad fashion sense.

There was no reason why Bucky Barnes, with those amazing thighs, should ever be wearing loose black cargo pants. That ass needed tight, form-fitting denim and sleek, well-fitting boots. That jawline cried out for a scarf to draw attention upward. Those arms needed tighter sleeves.

She already had Tony right where she wanted him; slight lifts in his shoes to bring him up to a flattering height next to Barnes, slacks to draw attention to his perfectly round ass. Sunglasses to keep attention on his face and that sardonic eyebrow that rose up above the lenses to give the viewer just a little hint of the brain inside.

They were a perfect couple. She really, really wanted to just quit school and go into the fashion business. She could be convinced to work with special fabrics, create gorgeous armor and costumed outfits for superheroes. They needed space suits sometimes, and bullet-proof jackets that still looked good. She’d seen a little empty shop right outside the academy. Maybe if she asked nicely, Professor Banner would pick it up and move it inside the walls where she could sell directly.

Enough of this whole size-shifting crime-fighter. The only crimes she wanted to fight were crimes of fashion.

She was going to tell Professor Pym right now. And maybe they could set up a date or something while she was at it.


	7. Raining on Prom Night

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I was deprived of a young girl's dream  
> By the cruel force of nature from the blue  
> Instead of a night full of romance supreme  
> All I got was a running nose and Asiatic flu  
> It's raining on prom night  
> My hair is a mess  
> It's running all over  
> My taffeta dress

The Guardians of the Galaxy played some hot licks as Tony walked into the dance hall, his arm lightly threaded through Bucky’s. They stopped at the balloon arch and Professor Parker snapped a photograph of them together.

Tony hoped that Bucky couldn’t feel the butterflies in Tony’s stomach, swooping and swirling like an acrobatic troupe. An official date, an actual one. Held inside Shield’s headquarters. Where everyone would see them enter together. It was official. They were dating. Tony leaned his head against Bucky’s shoulder, felt the metal that Tony had repaired, had improved, beneath the sleeve of Bucky’s jacket.

There was pride there, yes. And Tony couldn’t lie to himself, a certain smug satisfaction to having bagged Bucky at last. To have him on Tony’s arm.

And dear sweet Jesus, Bucky looked fine in his tight pants and jacket. Tony had fastened the boutonniere to his lapel with hands that wanted to rip the jacket off and bear Bucky down to the carpet instead.

He settled for a chaste kiss, a simple brush of their mouths together, and he’d thought he was going to get away with that, but at the very last second before Tony pulled away, Bucky’s hands tightened on Tony’s shoulders and he flicked his tongue in a light brush against Tony’s lower lip, leaving Tony gasping with desire.

“Hey, Buck.”

Tony heaved a sigh. That particular voice was becoming the death knell for his chances of a relationship with Bucky, because there was Captain freaking America again, drawing Buck’s attention, dragging him away.

“What now, Stevie?”

“What happened with Coulson and that archer guy, Clint?” Steve said. “‘Cause, don’t look now, but Clint brought a very different date to tonight’s dance.”

Tony didn’t want to look, he didn’t want to care, he was tired of the drama and the fuss. At least when he was back at SSR, he was drowning in lessons, not feelings. The Academy had been nothing but heartache.

Except Bucky inhaled, sharp. “Really? What the hell?”

Tony looked.

Clint was there, his eyes brilliant blue against his black and purple jacket. Like, really popping blue, Tony could see the gleam all the way across the dance floor. And on Clint’s arm, regal and beautiful as a poisonous snake, Loki Laufeyson.

“Um, is he even supposed to be at this school?” Tony asked, hesitant. Loki was a villain. Sort of. Mostly. Tony understood that Fury sometimes let villains in the school, if they’d proved themselves reformed. Maybe it was okay.

“I thought he was dating Coulson,” Bucky said.

“Yeah, well,” a girl said that Tony didn’t know, “I heard that Coulson gave him an STD, it’s all over the Academy that they weren’t _safe_.”

Steve groaned. “Really?”

The girl shrugged, careless. “I heard he had a rash, that’s what I heard.”

“Oh,” Bucky said. “That’s… well, I guess we know that they’re broken up, at least.”

Tony looked, saw Bucky staring across the room at Coulson, who was arm in arm with Natasha Romanoff.

The two of them made a striking couple; Coulson in a nice, neat suit and Natasha in a brilliant red, low cut gown that drew the attention -- smoking hot -- of everyone in the room. She was beautiful, sensual, amazing. And Bucky was staring at her like he’d lost his damn mind and was ready to start drooling.

Sigh.

“Tony, hey,” a deep, rough voice said, “I never did get a chance to apologize to you about the incident yesterday.”

Brock. Tony turned, smiled. Brock was tall, gorgeous, that little smirk on his face. “You can make it up to me. I wasn’t hurt, no harm done.”

If Bucky stiffened in shock, Tony didn’t pay attention. That’s what Bucky would get, gawping at someone else.

“I don’t think so,” Bucky said. “First dance is mine.”

There was a possessive thrill that went up Tony’s spine at that; he hadn’t really meant to make Bucky jealous, he didn’t think he was that small and petty, but Tony had to admit that the arm around his shoulder felt good, the way Bucky was looking at him was validating.

Bucky led Tony onto the floor and the music swayed into something sweet and slow. Bucky put his arms around Tony, one hand resting on his shoulder and the other at the small of his back, certainly closer than the other partners Tony’d had before. The air heated and simmered between them. Tony got himself situated as Bucky moved them in time with the music, looking up to see Bucky’s perfect face, to watch as those blue eyes focused on Tony’s face. They moved without thought; Tony responding instinctively to those little movements of Bucky’s hands, the pressure on his skin that told him when to step backward, when to turn.

“You know how to lead, I’ll say that much,” Tony said.

“Yeah?” Bucky grinned. “I used to dance more; had t’ take some time off. Most people don’t want a dance partner that’s only got one arm.”

“Well, that’s narrow-minded of some people,” Tony managed to say before Bucky stole his breath away with a sweeping turn that pushed their bodies closer together. Chest to chest, they moved as one, crossing the dance floor in a sultry promenade. Tony had never felt so protected, so adored, as when he and Bucky danced together, the way Bucky was looking at him, and the way Tony couldn’t help but look back.

***

The Guardians were playing fit to bring the roof down and most of the couples were out on the floor, moving together, jumping and swaying. Rhodey hadn’t asked anyone to the dance; he’d come stag and made his way around the edges of the room, asking the few wallflowers to take a turn with him and having more than his share of fun.

Even as he and Maria Hill swayed to a simple rhythm, Rhodey was scoping the scene. Drama perked here and there; Clint and Coulson were dancing very close to each other, both with a new partner, and yet staring at each other. Seriously, someone should just mash their faces together, the two pining idiots. Rhodey wasn’t even sure why they were fighting, although he’d heard the rumor that one of them had picked something up from the other.

Man, people at the Academy gossiped like his Ma’s bridge club. Worse than a glaring of old tabbies, this batch.

“She’s here, you know,” Maria said.

“What?”

“Carol,” Maria said. She exerted some pressure on Rhodey’s arm, turning him until he could see the sunny shimmer of Carol’s hair. She was dancing in a circle with a group of her friends, one arm around Peggy’s shoulders, the other hand doing some sort of vogue motions.

“I’m dancin’ with you now, though,” Rhodey said, giving Maria his best smile.

“You’re cute,” she said, patting his arm, “but it’s all over campus that you like each other. You should just ask her to dance and save yourself the grief.”

“It’s not a tragedy to be dancing with other people,” Rhodey said, even though, as they turned in response to the dance, he kept looking over Maria’s shoulder at Carol, listening to the sound of her laughter over the music.

“Well, don’t wait too long,” Maria said. The music ended and Rhodey was thinking about what she said, leaning against the speaker, when someone came up to him,

The man was older, cute and had a wide grin. “Hey, hey, there, it’s Jim, right? Jim Rhodes? I’ve heard all about you, the War Machine, big deal on campus, yeah,” he said. “I’m Justin, Justin Hammer, and --”

“Aren’t you the radio jockey?” Rhodey interrupted.

“Yeah, that’s me,” Justin said, “and on top of that, one of the best engineers on campus. I don’t have quite the parental backing as Stark, but you know, with you in my hands, you could be so much better, faster. We can rebuild you, we have the technology.”

“Oh, that’s cheesy, man,” Rhodey said, laughing.

“Well, you know, Stark’s not the only one who can make pop culture references,” Justin said.

“You got a beef with Tony, my man?”

“Nah, nah, nah, it’s all good, we did some tutoring under SSR for a while, you know.” Justin put an arm around Rhodey’s shoulder. “Come on, lemme buy you a beer or something, we can talk old times, I know you’ve known Stark for a while, too, an’ I would just love to pick your brains about some of the stuff that goes on in Stark Tower. Because, you, my friend, you are going someplace.”

“What are you on about?”

“Why be a sidekick to Tony Stark when you could be the main hero?” Justin said. He steered them toward the bar while Rhodey wasn’t quite paying attention, and snapped his fingers. Rhodey took a few minutes while Justin was paying for their drinks to see where Carol had wandered off to, and she was still there, dancing with her friends, although there was a blond guy with her that Rhodey didn’t know.

“Do I look like a sidekick to you?” Rhodey demanded, scoffing.

“Here you go, hero,” Justin said, handing Rhodey a drink. Rhodey took a sip and leaned against the bar, wondering if Carol would take it at all amiss if he went over to talk to her, maybe ask her for a dance. “No, you don’t. But if you keep hanging with Stark, that’s all anyone’s ever going to see. I mean, you’ve noticed you’re in like the Mark II armor, right, and he’s in like Mark 45? You’re always going to be second fiddle with him. If you want something bigger, something better, you should come over to Hammer industries.”

Rhodey took another gulp of soda, then shrugged. “It’s too early for me to start thinking about career directions,” he said. “And Tony’s done good by me. I wouldn’t be here at all if he --”

“You don’t owe him anything,” Justin said, and his voice seemed deeper, somehow. Seductive. Rhodey blinked a few times and turned to look. Justin had been a good looking man to start with, although his fashion sense could use some fine tuning, his voice had been big, full of false avuncular cheer, and now…

Rhodey leaned toward him. “Yeah? Tell me more.”

***

Tony eventually let himself be persuaded to dance with some of his friends as well, joined Jan and Peggy for an enthusiastic bounce and sway, and Bucky found himself adrift, right up until Natasha came over.

“Hey there, hot stuff,” she said, putting her hand on his arm. “Look, you and I both know we’re ten times better than anyone else on the floor.”

“We were, once,” Bucky said. He didn’t bear Natasha any particular ill-will; she’d dumped him after the accident, but that was only fair. He was moody and insolent and no fun to hang around with while he was recovering. It wasn’t that she was a bad person, Bucky reasoned with himself. She’d just not been in it for the long haul, and having her boyfriend end up depressed and disfigured probably hadn’t been high on her wish list.

“We could be again,” she suggested. “Look, my date’s nice enough and all, but he’s a terrible dancer. Yours is okay, but he’s not burning up the floor or anything.”

“I happen to like Tony,” Bucky said, a little sharp.

“Stark displays compulsive behavior," Natasha pointed out. "Prone to self-destructive tendencies. And he’s a textbook case of narcissism. You could do better.”

“I think your spy class has gotten your head all twisted around and you’re seeing your own faults in the people you’re supposed to be reporting on,” Bucky pointed out. “Not to mention the fact that you’ve been using me to try to finish your homework. Fury’s going to take points off if I mention that I made you, Natasha.”

“Don’t make me hurt you,” Natasha blustered.

“Relax,” Bucky said. “I’m not going to turn you in.”

“But you are going to dance with me,” Natasha said, invitingly.

One dance wouldn’t hurt, Bucky guessed. He sighed. “All right, one dance. For old time’s sake.”

He took her hand and led her out onto the floor. She was right, they’d been good together. As the music swirled around them, they were still good together. They moved together like parts in a clock, like the gears and servos in his arm. Like water over stones.

They were beautiful together and people cleared the floor to get out of their way. It was fun, it was easy. It had none of the heat and fire that dancing with Tony had. He didn’t care about Natasha, just about the way they moved together, how people clapped and cheered. He didn’t want to find a dark corner to back her into and kiss her until she couldn’t stand up. So it was simple. It was the mathematics of dance, the way his body moved, the way he could trace the path of intent in the flick of her eyes.

They moved together and it was beautiful, but when the dance was over, he let her hand go and started looking for Tony.

***

“Tony, come on,” Jan said, tugging at his arm. “I need you, right now.”

“For what, Wasp?”

“Rhodey,” she said, and that was all it took. Rhodey was Tony’s best friend, he would do anything for Rhodey, so he stopped staring, heartbroken, at Bucky dancing with Natasha. “He’s in the men’s room and I think he’s drunk or something, I don’t know, but I can’t go in there after him.”

Tony looked around, grabbed Clint. “You’re being drafted.”

“Really, what for?”

“Helping me carry Rhodey,” Tony said, pulling him off to the men’s room.

"I can handle it. I can handle whatever!" Clint said.

Rhodey in the men’s room, laying on the floor, which wasn’t exactly the cleanest place he’d ever been.

“Hey, honeybear, come on,” Tony said, squatting next to him. “What’s the matter, huh, little too much tequila?”

“Mppprh?”

“Yeah, I hear you,” Tony agreed. He rubbed his hands together, and then he and Clint moved to pick him up off the floor. Rhodey’s legs weren’t very coordinated, and even after they got him standing, he was wobbly and disoriented. “Come on, sugarplum, let’s get you back to the Tower and you can sleep it off.”

“--in m’ drink,” Rhodey babbled.

“I’m assuming there was alcohol in your drink, hotshot,” Tony said. “Thus, why you’re drunk.”

“Not me,” he said.

“Yes, yes you are,” Tony said.

“Not.” Rhodey insisted. “Hammer.”

“You’re hammered?” Clint suggested.

“Just in.”

“This just in,” Clint said, “Hammered.”

“Wait, wait,” Tony said. “Justin Hammer?”

“S’the guy,” Rhodey said. “Put something in my drink.”

“Oh, man, Rhodey,” Tony said, blinking. “You know he’s nothing but trouble.”

“Said I was your sidekick, man,” Rhodey complained.

“Sorry, pal,” Tony said, patting him on the arm. “Iron Man doesn’t have a sidekick. You’re just going to have to hero up on your own. Just, maybe after you get some sleep.”

“Clint, wait,” Coulson was there suddenly, and Tony staggered under Rhodey’s weight. “Can I talk to you a minute?”

“What do you want?” Clint was hesitant, his face a little red. “Don’t really have a minute right now.”

“Look, there’s some rumors going around, and I just… I don’t even know why you’re mad at me,” Coulson said. “I didn’t… look, I wasn’t even gonna take Nat to the dance, but you said no, and--”

“Look, it’s not your problem, Phil,” Clint said and his neck turned brick red.

“What, I thought--”

“I said, it’s not your problem,” Clint was louder that time, glaring. “It… it was someone else, okay?”

“Could you, I just…” Tony really didn’t want to be there, he didn’t know what was going on, and frankly, Rhodey was going to fall on the floor soon if someone didn’t help him.

“Sure, okay,” Coulson said, staring at Clint with huge, impossibly hurt, eyes.

Clint got an arm under Rhodey and they walked away, not looking back. Not talking. Clint avoided even looking at Tony until they were almost to the door, where Jan was waiting with her car.

“Do you, uh, wanna say goodnight to your date?” Jan suggested, throwing open the back seat so they could slide Rhodey in.

Tony didn’t bother to look back. “He’s dancing with Natasha,” he said. “I’m sure he won’t miss me.”


	8. Hopelessly Devoted To You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guess mine is not the first heart broken  
> My eyes are not the first to cry  
> I'm not the first to know  
> There's just no getting over you  
> I know I'm just a fool who's willin'  
> To sit around and wait for you  
> But baby, can't you see  
> There's nothin' else for me to do.  
> I'm hopelessly devoted to you

“Hey, hey, Tony, will you wait up?” It seemed like all Bucky was doing was chasing Tony around campus and it was getting old. Couldn’t they just have one date without some major misunderstanding or something?

For a change, Tony didn’t keep walking. He stopped, turned. When he saw Bucky, his face lit up and the smile that painted itself over Tony’s mouth was breathtaking. Bucky wanted to kiss that smile right off until Tony was melting and sighing in his arms.

“Hey, you disappeared last night, what happened?” Bucky asked.

“Totally not you,” Tony said, biting at the inside of his cheek. “Someone drugged Rhodey’s drink, it was kinda an emergency. I… I hear you and Natasha won the dance contest.” That last bit came out a little strained.

“Well, we were both training in dance, back in high school,” Bucky said. “Before she went to the super spy academy.”

“Red Room?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Bucky said. He glanced down and then took Tony’s hand, letting their fingers tangle together. “She wouldn’t have gone, except… look, we split up after I lost my arm. She’s trying to make sweet now, but… Tony, I don’t want her. She’s not a bad person, but she’s not the kind that’ll stick with you when things go wrong. I can’t… I don’t trust her, and I know it looks bad, but you gotta believe me. I’m not chasing after that skirt anymore. I’d rather be with you.”

“You would?”

“Why do you always sound so surprised?” Bucky asked. “I’ve been tryin’ to tell you all semester.”

Tony just looked at him and Bucky cringed, just a little bit. He knew some of it was his own fault, and some of it was just bad timing, and…

“Okay, okay, you have a point. Look, it’s open mic tomorrow night, down at the coffee shop, why don’t you come with me. We can listen to some music -- I hear that Hellcat’s going to be there, an’ I want to do a song that I’ve been working on, and--”

“Sure, we can do that,” Tony said. “I’d like to spend more time with you, if I… if I won’t embarrass you, if you’re seen with me, or something.”

“I know I was a jerk, Tony,” Bucky said, desperately. “I know. I’m sorry, I’m… I really am. Can we just… start over or something, I don’t know. “We do keep doing that,” Tony said. He rubbed his thumb against Bucky’s metal wrist. “I don’t know if that means I’m a fool, or an idiot.”

Neither of those seemed like good choices to Bucky. “I don’t know what you are,” he said, crowding into Tony’s personal space. “I just can’t… I can’t seem to stop tryin’. Can’t seem to stop wanting to be with you. So, you know, if you feel th’ same way, let’s see if we can’t get it right this time? Maybe? Come on over to the garage, we can hang out while we try to fix Coulson’s car.”

“I already said yes,” Tony said, a hint of a smile on his face. He bounced up on tiptoe and pressed his lips to the side of Bucky’s mouth, just catching him on the corner. “I’ll see you later, I got class, gotta run!” And he did, as soon as Bucky leaned back, jogging toward the other end of the campus. Bucky watched him go.

“You still giving that a try?” Carol said, coming up behind him.

“I think he’s worth it, yeah,” Bucky said. He was tired of Carol pushing at him. “You know, he’s not a bad guy, just because he’s a scientist. There are bad guys who are experiments, too. It’s not what happened to you that gets you here that’s important. It’s what you choose to do with it.”

Carol scoffed, but didn’t have anything clever to say, so Bucky just nodded to her.

He’d get it right this time, or die trying.

***

Tony wasn’t sure what to expect at the garage, a whole bunch of the Howling Commandos mocking him. Instead what he got was Coulson practically sobbing in his arms about the damage to his baby. For a moment, Tony wasn’t sure what baby he was talking about, since Clint had broken up with Coulson a few days before the dance, but then Tony got his first look at Lola.

Loki and his Frost Giants had done a number on the vehicle. There was a huge bend in the A-frame and both headlights were smashed in. One repulsor was whining fitfully, the other three were out completely.

“You got the engine schematics for this?” Tony asked. He walked under the lift, peering up. There were drip pans underneath, catching all the various leaking, dripping fluids. It was painful to look at the engine like this, like a wounded warrior.

“Of course,” Coulson said. He indicated a work-table and spread out the papers. Tony recognized his father’s handwriting, dotted here and there around in notations. He’d used some of these notes, to build the Iron Man armor. Howard had never quite broken through on the arc-reactor, which was initially noted to be the power source, so Lola ran on a Vita-ray supercapacitor battery. Which would probably be why the Commandos couldn’t keep the repulsors running; they were a horrific power drain.

“The core’s cracked here,” Tony noted, poking at the underside of the engine. “Can’t fix it, that’ll have to be replaced. Unless, you know, you want to risk an explosion that’ll take out most of the school.”

“Can you do it?” Coulson asked, and Tony looked around to find that the entire squad of Commandos had gathered around him, staring at him. Bucky’s face was bright with expectation, smug satisfaction, and he threw a ‘told you so’ look at Carol, who scoffed and jerked her chin to one side, rolling her eyes.

“Why’d you even want this old thing, anyway?” Tony asked. His fingers itched for the tools, to take this baby apart and put her back together and let her purr like a kitten, but he wasn’t about to admit that to the Commandos.

“Your dad was a visionary,” Bucky said, sliding his hand into Tony’s and twining their fingers together. “He had some great ideas, really out there, for his time. But you… you made them happen. Your dad came up with the repulsors, but you’re the one that made them fly. I can’t imagine what you could do with this car, baby, but I think we’d all like to see it.”

“Yeah?” Tony blinked rapidly, his eyes burning. “Yeah, okay, we can give it a whirl, but…” He pressed one hand over his chest. There were things he could do to give the sulfur hexafluoride tank more power, but it might be easier just to build another arc-reactor. Which meant trusting. Trusting Bucky, at least, if none of the others.

“Come on,” Steve said, looking proud and somehow anxious. “Coulson’s gotta regain some honor. Loki and his gang are out to the track, showing off Sleipnir’s moves. Their car’s gonna make us look bad. Where’s your school spirit?”

“Is that what you call this?” Tony said, unable to stop himself from smirking. Then again, Loki _was_ a bit of a dick. Clint and Coulson could have really gotten hurt in that accident.

“We can’t let the Villains Academy have a flying car if we don’t have a flying car,” Carol added. She was dragging a huge crate of parts into the garage with one hand as if it weighed nothing at all. “And I don’t feel like punching a comet back into orbit this year just to prove our superiority.”

“Pretty sure that was a once in a lifetime opportunity,” Bucky said.

“Well, that’s not entirely true,” Tony said. “Mass drivers are a pretty effective weapon against a planet-based target. Point and throw, really. The space-age equivalent of slings and rocks. If Captain Marvel here can throw them back into space, that’s good for us. I’ve been at SSR for quite some time, and while I’ve signed some non-disclosure agreements, that up there, that’s the end game. Superheros can bust up arms-dealers all day, but space? That what we’re needed for. Always.”

“Well, if it comes down to that,” Steve said, “we’ll beat them together.”

Tony chuckled. “Star spangled optimist,” he said. “Well, let’s see what we’ve got here.” He grabbed a tool from Coulson’s bucket and started disassembling the panels that held in the repulsor drives. “Someone call Rhodey; he’s got a pretty good eye for these pieces, and the faster we can pull them apart, the faster we can get this together again.”

Carol flushed lightly. “Is he doing okay? I heard --”

“Yeah, that happened,” Tony said, cutting it off. Poor Rhodey probably didn’t want it spread around, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to want Carol’s pity for it. “He had a bit of a headache after, but we got to him before Justin Hammer was able to do something stupid, like put an Ex-wife bunker buster missile on his suit. He’ll be fine. But you should totally call him.”

“Yeah, I…” Carol pulled out her phone. “I should do that. Thanks.”

“Playing matchmaker, babydoll?” Bucky’s voice was warm and soothing in his ear.

“Would I do that?”

“Yes?”

“Well, then, I’m probably doing that,” Tony said. He popped open the panel and dug out the electronic control relays to take a look at them. “But he’s also a damn fine engineer, and while too many cooks will spoil the broth, more hands does make the work go faster.”

“Okay, then,” Bucky said, dropping a kiss on Tony’s cheek. “Tell me what I can do.”

***

_“The man who embraces his heroic nature pays a terrible price. He sees the darkness in the world, and in his own heart, and is forever changed. The child gives way to the man. And the day comes when he must ask himself, ‘What kind of man will I be? Am I willing to die on my feet? Or will I live my life on my knees? Do I have what it takes to become truly great? To become more than a man?’”_

_Yinsen was dying._

_There was nothing Tony could do about that. He could do nothing to save the man who had saved his life. Who had changed his life._

_Who had chained his life._

_He still work up at night, dreaming of Yinsen’s blood on his hands. Yinsen’s family’s blood; they had been struck down by Stark tech, the work of his father. But also, the work of Tony. Tony Stark, child genius, who had discovered more about integrated circuits than any twelve year old should ever have learned. Who’d turned Howard Stark’s laser-paintable firing system into a satellite uplink, image-mapping, and bio-indicators homing system._

_Stark Industries made bombs that could literally kill anyone._

_Anywhere._

_As long as it had seen them once and they ventured outside more than once every three years._

_And Tony had been part of that._

_Technology couldn’t be put back in the bag. There were things that couldn’t be uninvented. Even after Tony had been returned to his father, the arc-reactor keeping the scraps of shrapnel from shredding his heart, and the databanks containing the information for project Insight had been destroyed, the tech was still out there._

_It was why Tony had invented the Iron Man suit. The only way to keep the world safe._

_From himself._

***

Bucky stared at the tiny, glowing device in Tony’s hands. “You’re kidding, right?”

It hadn’t taken him long to build; once they’d gotten into Tony’s lab. He’d had most of the parts pre-made. After Tony explained to him that one of them had been stolen from him at a critical junction, he’d made spares, kept locked in his vault. “Nah, this one’s a baby, compared to the main arc-reactor. It’ll only run for about five thousand years before the core gives way and will need to be replaced.”

“How long will the main one last?” Bucky asked. He didn’t know what Tony had built them for, but the sort of energy output he was talking about was just incredible. He knew Tony was a genius, but this went well beyond everything Bucky had ever even _imagined._

“Quite a while, I hope,” Tony said. He pressed his hand to his chest for a moment and Bucky felt his forehead crinkle.

“What’s it run?” Suspicious, because that’s how Tony was reacting to a simple question.

Tony swallowed a few times, hard. “Can I trust you?”

“You know you can,” Bucky said. He reached out for Tony’s hand, still pressed against his sternum, and suddenly, horrifically, Bucky suspected.

“It runs _me_ ,” Tony answered. He batted Bucky’s hand away and pulled up his shirt. “And you know, the Iron Man suit by default, but the one in Rhodey’s suit is detachable. This one… well, this one’s part of me. I won’t live without it.”

The arc-reactor in Tony’s chest glowed like a miniature star.

The skin around it was puckered and scarred, and red in places, even if the wound was over a year old.

“Tony…”

“So, unlike what _Carol_ thinks of me,” Tony said, bitter and angry, “I am just like you. Experimented on against my will. Body modifying surgery in a dark cave with third-world surgical tools. They had a damn car battery wired to my chest, originally. How about that for lousy energy production? A car battery. I had to carry it around with me or shrapnel in my chest was going to tear me apart.”

“That’s awful,” Bucky said. More than awful, it was terrifying, it was horrible, it was… he could have lost Tony because he’d ever known him at all, and that was just. Bucky was pretty sure that even if he had the best writers, a thesaurus, and the entirety of the Hallmark’s Sympathy Cards staff at his beck and call, he couldn’t have some up with a word to express how empty he felt at that thought.

“Yeah, I know,” Tony said, and yanking his shirt back down to cover the glow. He scowled at nothingness for a long moment, then turned his attention back to the new reactor on the work bench in front of him.

“Tony, I --” But what even did Bucky say? He couldn’t relate. He hadn’t volunteered to lose the arm, but he had signed up for the replacement, even if Madame Hydra had treated him like a lab rat. But even with all that, there was no way that his situation compared _at all_. It was nice having both arms. Useful. But people made do without them all the time. There were dozens of vets from the various wars who got along with missing limbs, or with prosthetics that weren’t controlled by their own bio-electronic impulses, just a piece of plastic to fill a sleeve, or the leg-blades that Bucky’d seen. People who made do, who got by, who did more than just got by.

Tony would _die_ without the arc-reactor. Without the electromagnet that kept his heart safe.

Would have died.

Might still.

Bucky found himself unable to say anything, just watched Tony cautiously from the corner of his eye, like something might happen to him at any moment, that he’d be snatched away by the specter of death.

God, you’re morbid, Barnes. Bucky scolded himself but it didn’t do any good. And he didn’t want to hang all over Tony, keep hands on him. For one, what exactly did Bucky think he could do if something did happen to Tony? Secondly, it wasn’t fair of Bucky to treat Tony like he was fragile or incapable, when he so obviously wasn’t. The best, Bucky thought, he could do was just go on doing what they’d been doing. Like it didn’t change a thing.

Because it didn’t.

***

Tony knew he shouldn’t have said a word.

Knew it.

Because Bucky was giving him all sorts of side-eye and not talking, and when he was talking, his gaze was drifting down and Bucky was staring at Tony’s chest. Like he had X-ray vision and was trying to see through the tee shirt to gawk at the arc-reactor.

He kept reaching for Tony, too, while they worked. His hand would go out, to support Tony’s elbow, to pat him, or hold his hand, and then he’d _pull back_ , like he was afraid that heart problems were contagious.

The third time Bucky opened his mouth and just didn’t freaking say it, Tony had had enough. He’d attached the new arc-reactor to the car, replaced the leads and had gotten two of the four repulsors repaired and working.

And he was just done.

“No,” Tony said. He held up one hand in Bucky’s direction, palm out. _Stop._

“No, what?” Bucky asked. He blinked a few times, then looked away, like he’d been caught. Which he had, he totally had, and Tony was just done.

“Just no,” Tony said. “I knew I shouldn’t have told you.”

“It’s not like that,” Bucky protested.

“It’s exactly like that,” Tony said. “And we’re done. Don’t. Don’t talk to me, don’t follow me.”

Tony might have been the slightest bit disappointed when Bucky _didn’t_ follow him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks to EmuSam for noticing my brackets that I never edited cleanly and suggestions of what technobabble to put in there... ::blush:: 
> 
> And SierraNovembr for more of the same. y'all are life-savers
> 
> (I'm going to blame hospital trip and large doses of steroids for my flakey behavior.)


	9. You're The One that I Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I got chills, they're multiplying  
> And I'm losing self control  
> 'Cause the power, you're supplying  
> It's electrifying!  
> You better shape up, 'cause I need a man  
> And my heart is set on you  
> You better shape up, you better understand  
> To my heart I must be true  
> Nothing left, nothing left for me to do
> 
> You're the one that I want  
> You are the one I want  
> Oo,Oo,Oo honey  
> You're the one that I want  
> You are the one I want  
> Oo, Oo, Oo honey
> 
> You're the one that I want  
> You are the one I want  
> Oo, Oo, Oo, the one that I need  
> Oh yes indeed
> 
> If you're filled with affection  
> You're too shy to convey  
> Meditate my direction  
> Feel your way  
> I better shape up, 'cause you need a man  
> I need a man who can keep me satisfied  
> I better shape up, if I'm gonna prove  
> You better prove that my faith is justified  
> Are you sure? Yes I'm sure down deep inside  
> You're the one that I want  
> You are the one I want  
> Oo, Oo, Oo honey

Bucky was exhausted. He was tired of not knowing what he was doing wrong. Even when he was trying his hardest to get things right, it seemed that nothing was easy, nothing was understandable.

All he knew was that he wanted Tony. Wanted it to work out, wanted to be able to walk with him around the campus. Eventually, he’d like to do something like fighting supervillains together. To be able to protect Tony, both from the world, and from himself, because Tony really did seem a little self-destructive. Quick to take offense. Quick to read things the wrong way. Quick to see himself in the worst light and to believe that others saw him that way, too.

For right now, Bucky was going to do something he did understand.

He went to the race.

Loki had hurt some of Bucky’s friends, and Bucky aimed to see him utterly humiliated and cast down for it.

At least the car was finished. He and the rest of the Commandos piled into it; Coulson was driving and his hands were on the wheel, eyes bright and fierce.

Bucky went over the upgrades with him, once they got there. “Here’s for the repulsors,” he said, indicating the switch that he and Tony had spent a good hour or so rewiring.

“So that’s what that button does,” Coulson mused thoughtfully.

Loki and his gang were already there, their car, Sleipnir, was a thing of dark beauty. Evil and yet so very cool. Bucky paused for a moment to consider that it was a shame they were enemies. He shook the thought away; Loki was evil, Loki meant to hurt people.

“You’ll do great,” Bucky said, patting Coulson on the shoulder.

“You’re gonna be my second, right?” Coulson asked. “Aside from me, you’re the best driver in the bunch, and you know how to run Lola, right?”

Bucky blinked. “I thought you didn’t want anyone else touching Lola.” That was sort of true, Coulson had a tendency to be a little defensive about his car, even though he’d let most of the Commandos borrow it from time to time. Except for Steve. No one who ever wanted to see their car (or motorcycle) in one piece again let Steve get behind the wheel.

“Come on, man,” Coulson said. “We can’t lose this race!”

“Nothing’s gonna happen to you,” Bucky said. “But yeah, sure, I can do that.”

“Hey, Phil!” Steve called. “Look, I got something for you.”

Coulson walked around the other side of the car; Steve had a couple of cards in one hand and was waving them around. Bucky scoffed; Steve had managed to dig up some “rare” collector cards -- was it cheating if Bucky told Coulson that Steve got those things from his publicity rep for free? -- and had signed them. Good lord, Steve’s ego was enormous.

Except how it really wasn’t. It wasn’t that Steve was trying to show off -- even if he _was_ \-- but that Coulson was a collector of super-hero paraphernalia and Steve took care to know Coulson’s preferences. It was actually kinda cute.

“Oh, wow, Cap, that’s…” Coulson was staring at Steve like Steve had just floated down from heaven. Bucky was rolling his eyes, which was probably why he missed it. The wind picked up and the cards slipped from Coulson’s hands. He bent over to pick them up and someone else opened the back seat door, slamming Coulson into the ground.

“Damn,” Steve said, dropping to one knee.

“Language,” Peggy scolded him from the sidelines. “Let me see, is he -- oh, hell, he’s out cold.”

“You’re gonna have to drive in his place,” Steve said, handing the keys over to Bucky. “We can’t let him drive like this.” Peggy was pulling Coulson to his feet, waving a sharp-smelling sachet in front of his nose.

“I was just saying that nothing was going to happen to you, _you idiot_ ,” Bucky fussed. He took the keys and grabbed a pair of driving gloves from Coulson’s pocket.

“Well, then,” Steve said, glaring at Bucky like all of this was his freaking fault, “you’re to blame, so you better fix it.”

Bucky rolled his eyes. “Yes, sir, Captain, sir,” he muttered. He pushed the driver’s seat back; he was a little taller than Coulson, and adjusted the steering wheel. Checked the rearview mirror. The crowds of students gathered to watch the race were impressive and…

Was that Tony in the crowd there?

Bucky tried to hide a smile. Not that it mattered, Tony couldn’t see him clearly from his spot in the crowd, but at least Tony was here. No matter how it had happened, Tony couldn’t stay away from Bucky any more than Bucky could stay away from Tony.

They’d figure it out.

“Drivers ready?”

Bucky nodded. He strapped in, looping the five-point crash belt around his shoulders and clicking the latch in the center buckle. He checked the mirrors again, there was Tony, standing with his friend Janet, watching nervously.

He threw the car in gear and rolled over to the start. Loki was in the driver’s seat opposite him. Loki rolled his window down smoothly, and Bucky hit the retract button on the passenger side window to hear what the bastard had to say.

“I thought that Coulson was driving,” Loki said, icily. “Did he have to go to bed without supper?”

“Why don’t you let Thor take over, clearly he’s the better driver,” Bucky mocked. “You’re gonna lose.”

“Am I?”

“It’s in your nature,” Bucky quipped. He gunned the engine, listening to Lola purr like the tiger she was. Good car. He ran a hand over the dash, admiring. Tony had done good work. He could trust in Tony’s work. “In the end, you’ll always lose. You lack conviction.”

“You lose, you kneel,” Loki snarled. “Where everyone can see you.”

There was no answer to that, and Steve was already out on the road, waving his starter hanky.

“In the end, you will always kneel!”

Bucky swore. Loki was off and going hell bent for leather. Bucky threw Lola into gear and slammed his foot to the ground, hitting the clutch at every turn, trying to regain lost speed.

And then it was driving. Losing himself in the feel of the road. He loved his mechanical arm in times like these; it was just so responsive. He could feel the vibrations in the car long before the tachometer told him to shift up, he was on top of it. He and the car were one, Lola moved at his every thought, barely before the wheel turned in his hand.

It didn’t take very long to catch up with Loki, even as fast as Sleipnir moved, its larger frame kept it from being quite as maneuverable. Lola was sleek, she was designed for spirited performance and nimble handling. Her lower center of gravity gave her the advantage on roads, the repulsor discs gave her the ability to go beyond roads.

Bucky was behind Loki, directly. Staring up the tailpipe. The bigger car zigged back and forth across the road. Pinned in by the low hills on either side of the road, Bucky couldn’t pass. Loki drove like a madman, wild as a bag of cats, heedless of the possibility of a wreck.

“JARVIS?” Bucky asked. He was sure that Tony had been extending his AI into the suits and wasn’t sure if he’d messed with the car as well. “Can I get a visual on the road ahead?” He needed an advantage, just a little one. Once he was past Loki, he could eat up the road and everything would be over except the screaming.

“Of course, Mr. Barnes,” the AI’s smoothly cultured voice came over the radio’s speaker. “Projecting on the passenger glass.”

It was good that JARVIS had warned him, otherwise Bucky might have lost control of the vehicle when the full color overlay popped up on the windshield. Bucky could see the two rapidly moving dots that represented Loki (in green) and himself (in red).

“Got a good spot where I can pass him?”

“Point six miles ahead, on the hairpin, activate left repulsors at two seconds into the turn. You will gain a burst of speed and minimal clearance needed to pass. From there --”

“Yeah, give it to me as we go, Jay,” Bucky said, downshifting for better traction on the uneven road surface. “Two step directions are all I can manage.”

“You may wish to note that compliant features of the repulsor upgrade will misbehave ungracefully,” JARVIS said.

“Meaning what, exactly?”

“Compliant behavior of the feature is not guaranteed.”

“It won’t work?”

“Those upgrades were left accessible in case they were required.”

“Meaning it _might_ work,” Bucky suggested.

“A very astute observation, Mr. Barnes,” JARVIS replied.

“I thought Tony fixed the repulsors,” Bucky whined. He shifted again, riding right up Loki’s tailpipe.

“Mr. Stark was distracted,” JARVIS said, “by emotional issues.”

“I pissed him off,” Bucky said.

“You might have done so,” JARVIS said. “Prepare to fire repulsors on my mark, Mr. Barnes.”

“Don’t be a nag, sweetheart,” Bucky replied, finger hovering over the button.

“I wouldn’t dream of it, Mr. Barnes,” JARVIS said.

“You can call me Bucky if you want.”

“I’ll keep that in mind, Mr. Barnes,” JARVIS said. “Mark.”

Bucky triggered the repulsors and whooped with delight when the trademark click and whine sounded, boosting Lola up around the side of the curve.

“Repulsor capacity is down to thirteen percent,” JARVIS informed him as they tore down the road, leaving Loki and his demon-car in Lola’s dust.

“Hopefully I’ll only need twelve,” Bucky said.

***

“What the hell is he doing?” Tony demanded, grabbing Janet’s arm and squeezing.

“Um, winning the race?” Janet said. She raised a pair of ridiculously yellow binoculars to her eyes and studied the track. “Really, he would have looked better doing it in a new jacket. I’ll have to talk with him about it.”

“I don’t care about his fashion!” Tony burst out, ignoring Jan’s gasp of horror. “I care about him running the repulsors.”

“They’re your tech, Tones,” Rhodey said, all reasonable from a few feet away, one arm around Carol’s waist.

“They’re not properly aligned!” Tony yelled. “I didn’t… I got… distracted. I was upset. He shouldn’t be--”

Even over the sound of the crowd, Tony could hear the repulsor whine, shaky, unsteady. _Failing_.

“Go, go Commandos!” Someone started the chant and soon the crowd was a roar of noise and enthusiasm.

“Come on, Rhodes!” Tony grabbed Rhodey’s arm.

“What?”

“We gotta help him,” Tony explained, yanking Rhodey along with him through the crowd. “If he tries to fly in Lola right now, the repulsors aren’t balanced for the load. He’ll crash!”

“You know I can catch his stupid butt if he falls out of the sky, right, Stark?” Carol quipped, hovering alongside them.

“If you do it, he’ll be out of the race,” Tony said. “Besides, with your strength, I’m not sure you wouldn’t accidentally put him in orbit, and Lola’s not equipped to visit other celestial bodies.”

“What, you’re gonna fix the repulsors. From under the car? While he’s airborne? Are you _crazy_?”

“Crazy like a fox,” Tony snarked. “JARVIS, get me a suit!”

Carol picked Rhodey up under the arms like he was an oversized teddy bear and practically dropped him on top of War Machine. “Go, go, go,” she chanted as the two of them hopped into the suits, repulsors blasting even before the mask closed over Tony’s face.

“Hey babe,” Tony said as he shot across the sky toward the race course. “You need a pit-go.”

“Tony?” Bucky’s voice was startled. “A what?”

“You can’t stop, no time. Launch Lola up here and let me fix her before you crash into the earth at ninety-miles an hour, or send yourself spinning into space,” Tony explained.

“What the hell are you doing?”

“Keeping you from getting killed because I’m an idiot,” Tony said. “Launch her, now.”

Tony slid under the chassis as soon as Lola was airborne, tools already out.

“I gotcha, Tones,” Rhodey reported, gauntleted hands coming up under Tony’s hips, holding him steady while he worked.

“Don’t fly low,” Tony cautioned. “I really don’t wanna get scraped off on the trees.”

“Doin’ the best I can, kitten,” Bucky said, his voice shaking a little, “but it’s not really very stable in here at the moment.”

“Tell me about it, stud” Tony said. He popped open the rear-passenger repulsor disc. “Just give me three minutes.”

“Under the circumstances, sir,” JARVIS said, “two minutes is about all you have.”

“I love pressure,” Tony said, grabbing the two cross-leads and yanking them loose. “I eat pressure for breakfast. And gluten-free waffles.”

“I wasn’t aware you even knew what breakfast was, Tones,” Rhodey commented. “Usually you’re just running on coffee and anxiety.”

“Shut up before I tell everyone about your--”

“You want me to drop your ass, Stark,” Rhodey growled, “just keep talkin’.”

Tony would have said something, he should have said something, but he was a little busy right now, goddammit. He tightened the conductive motivator and plugged the cross-leads back in. “Okay, Bucky, baby, give me a count of three, turn ‘em off, then back on, okay?”

“We’re going with the Microsoft solution, Tony? Have you tried rebooting?” Bucky’s voice was high and faintly panicking.

“I’m right here,” Tony said. “If it doesn’t work, honey, I’ll catch you. I promise.”

Tony could hear Bucky’s sigh over the comms.

“One, two,” Bucky said. “Three.”

Tony and Rhodey scrambled to get out from under the vehicle before gravity claimed one of her own.

The car went dead.

“Come on, come on, come on,” Tony chanted under his breath.

The engine turned over with a roar.

The repulsors came back online with a click and a whirr.

“Oh, thank Tesla,” Tony murmured. “Go get ‘em, babycakes!”

Bucky shifted, hit the accelerator and the car zoomed away.

“Hey, Tones,” Rhodey said. “Ain’t you gonna go to the finish line and kiss your boy?”

“Yes,” Tony said, turning. “But I need to go home and change clothes, first.”

***

“Hey,” a soft voice near Coulson’s ear got his attention.

God, his head hurt. And he wasn’t exactly calm, watching Bucky Barnes almost wreck his car, almost lose to Loki Laufeyson. But maybe… maybe everything would be all right.

He pressed his lips together and turned. It wasn’t exactly making him happy that Clint was still talking to him, with all the rumors going around. Bad enough that Clint had hurt him, had either spread those lies, or let them be spread. But now, to --

“Aw, Phil, no,” Clint said. He put a hand on Coulson’s arm. “Look, lemme explain, okay. I know it looks bad.”

“Looks bad?”

“It… look, it was poison ivy, okay? I went to the clinic and got checked out. Nothing happened. It wasn’t you, it wasn’t me, it was just some damn weeds, okay?”

“On your dick?”

“Ok, I know it looks bad, but trust me on this. Feels worse,” Clint pointed out. “Come on… come on, Phil, make the call. I’m still rooting for _us_.”

“Clint, you idiot,” Coulson said. He put an arm around Clint’s waist and drew him in.

“Yeah, well, you love me anyway,” Clint said, leaning against Coulson’s side.

“Yeah, I do.”

***

Bucky climbed out of the car, triumphant.

It didn’t take long before Carol and Steve had him up on their shoulders, displaying him to the cheering crowds. Loki barely even stopped at the finish line, just spun a plume of dirt everywhere and took off. He might have yelled some cheesy I’ll-be-back sort of one-liner, but no one could hear him over the cheers.

And no one cared.

Of course Loki would be back. Villains were always back. (Even death wasn’t a career ending event.)

“Where’s Tony?” Bucky asked, staring around. He’d hoped to get his triumphant kiss or _something_. No matter how angry Tony had been with him, when the chips were down, Tony was there for Bucky. And now that they’d won, that they were the victors, Tony deserved to be there for the accolades.

 _Always_.

“I’m here,” Tony said.

Bucky nearly fell off his perch.

Tony had taken off the Iron Man armor. Which was nice. Hugging a metal suit hadn’t sounded like a lot of fun anyway.

But he’d also taken something else off.

Tony was dressed in jeans, sneakers, and a tank top that showed off his muscular biceps.

But also had a little hemmed window in the exact center.

Through it, the arc-reactor glowed, blue and beautiful, visible to everyone.

“Tony…” Bucky couldn’t speak coherently, could only stare.

“Hey, Dr. Kimble,” Tony said. He was smiling a bit uncertainly, like he wasn’t sure if Bucky was going to run to him, or run away.

Bucky made a face at him. “Pretty sure that’s messed up and backward, kitten.”

“Details. They’re for other people,” Tony said. “Look, I… if you still… I’m an idiot and I’m sorry.”

Bucky stepped closer, put his hand over the glowing reactor, feeling the heat and the whirr of machinery. “You’re okay, showing this off to everyone?”

Tony smiled. “Yeah. You’re the one that I want,” he said. “It’s you, it’s always been you. And my stupid insecurities almost messed that up.”

“I didn’t make it any easier on you, kitten,” Bucky confessed. “I… wanted to seem tough and cool and it almost drove you away.”

“Well, you better shape up,” Tony said. “Because my heart is set on you.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Art by the supremely talented and lovely [Latelierderiot](http://latelierderiot.tumblr.com/)


End file.
